Guardian
by Saphira Winchester
Summary: No one but Sam and the Trickster know or remember what happened in the Mystery Spot...or are they? What if Sam met someone in those six extra months? What if she was unlike anything any hunter had ever seen? What if she pledged to help Sam by saving Dean? How much would change or stay the same, how deep would this girl shake the Winchester's to their core?
1. Mystery Spot (epilogue)

**Author's note:** Hello everybody! I'm super excited to finally be posting again, especially this fandom. OMG how I love this, the boys, the car, the obvious Destial ;D. I took advantage of their lack of fourth wall and just let myself on in.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own supernatural. Only the turns these stories take from Kripke's canon and Saphira.  
The whole cast and crew from beginning to end show their appreciation to the fans for their love of what they do. So what follows is my thanks to them for creating the world and people I've come to love so much.

But because I love them does not mean I like what Kripke does to my boys. I've had to stop watching half way into season 10 (last episode I saw was Executioner's Song) because I didn't feel like going down the path to Broken Heart Syndrome, yes that's a real thing, more then I already was. I, of course, will catch up because I'm a glutton for punishment in the form of Hot Texans turned Kansas hunters and their amazing and heart moving bond.

Till then please be as unspoiler as you can in reviews, and if I do not capture the characters right or make mistakes plz tell me, also if you have suggestions on how to make the transition in this stories more believable and flow right, as I have no beta and proofread these myself plz review.

Alrighty I think that about covers it, here we go.

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Then

May 26, 2008 New Orleans, Louisiana

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Moonlight filtered through the gapes in-between the tangle of old cedar branches overhead. They overlapped their neighbors so much one could hardly tell which branches belong to which base as the roots sank deep into the water of the bayou.

In the maze of trees, roots, and gators stood a small house, built from the same wood that surrounded it, making it blend in seamlessly. Not that anyone that would call it a house ventured this far out into the bayou which was one of the main reasons the owner built it here.

Standing on the edge of the dock, a woman with black hair stood looking out over the water. The lack of light, natural or artificial, did not hamper her gaze. She was always rather owl-like in the night hours, which is to say her tendency to blink was very low, not that her head turned 270 degrees in either direction.

A fact that always disappointed her. If her head could turn that way it had the added advantage of scaring the crap out of anyone that spotted her and help her survey the area. But she more than compensated for her dismal ninety degrees.

 _Quiet_ , she thought. _It's getting quiet again._

This was not a quiet that meant an absence of sound, but a quiet like stillness, a lull in the very earth 6 billion people walked on. Like a giant cravenness maul was just now unhinging to take a breath that would swallow any and everything that was sucked into it. Then anything that did not recover fast enough to try and crawl out was promptly smashed between its monstrous teeth in a crack of bone and a spray of blood.

War was on the horizon just waiting for the first spark of sunrise to send it roaring into a devastating blaze.

Eight months ago, even here deep in her bayou home; Saphira had felt the ripples of the devils gate being opened, saw the swirling black swarms of meatless demons as they writhed through the air searching for a place to play. The demons must have had a wonderful time crashing and clawing their way out and over each other.

A long time ago she would have fought against the horde and stopped their deadly spread of darkness in the hearts of humans. Now…now what was the point when no one cared if you won or lost everything, if you broke bones or were bled dry?

Her right hand found its way to the leather band on her left wrist, spinning in around and around. What did it matter anymore? She had lost everything to time; her home, her family, and friends. The only one who had survived the passage of time with her was her father and he was always off pulling pranks. He came around and tried his best to cheer her up, put that light she had when she was a child back but really she was already done.

A few days before the demons broke out her dad got weird. He broke off mid joke, a feat that had never been done before, and a sudden agony washed over the whole of his being. Then within the same day he turned homicidally angry, leaving her with a growled he had work to do excuse before disappearing. So, yeah, dad went AWOL a lot.

And she was done being hurt. Done making friends just to lose them, done feeling adrift in a world that had forgotten her and all she did just so they could play the happy fool. She was done, _done_. Take it and leave her alone.

Of course when one declares to the universe, however silently, that you give up on a lifelong goal, ambition, etc. It feels the need to through it right smack in your face. And for Saphira it did so with the words "Son of bitch!" being shouted out over the water followed by a loud splash.

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Now

"Dude, not for nothing but your navigating sucks," Dean candidly informed his brother who had him getting back alley bayou mud all up in his baby's undercarriage.

And why was he getting mud on his car? Because Sam said there was 'Someone he needed to see' in this sludge hole. Normally Dean would have demanded more information about the why, the where, and the who, but Sam had been off since Broward County.

The full extent of what went down between Sam and the Trickster was still fuzzy. Mostly because prying the truth out of Sam was like pulling teeth…from a T-rex…or a raptor…or Jaws… or some blood chilling combination of the three.

For Dean it started on the Wednesday that followed a hundred Tuesdays. When Sam pretty much swallowed him in a hug; in fact the only part of him that wasn't buried in some part of Sam was his head, which was hooked over his shoulder. Even if they weren't the touchy feely kind of family, the hug still would have caught him off-guard.

"Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?" he asked stunned at the ferocity of the hug. He brought his arms up to steady himself and he felt... was that a tremor? Yes, it was. His little brother was freaking _shaking_ against him.

"Enough." God his voice sounded like he been screaming for so long there was hardly any breath in him. Pulling away he didn't go far, just enough to look at him. "Wait. What do you remember?"

"I remember you were pretty whacked out of it yesterday. Remember catching up with the Trickster. That's about it." He held back a wince at his own understatement.

Watching that douchebag throw his death, the one that was coming in a few months, in Sam's face, the number of blood covered stakes he wanted to shove into the guy increased with each word. Sam was shaking then too, but not from so many repressed emotions like he was now. When he was cornering the Trickster in the alley there was only one; rage. Panting heavily, shifting feet, readjusting his grip on the Tricksters throat. The stake was just for show, Sam would have happily torn him open whether he had that or not and it was the real challenge to not to.

Listening to that dick taunt Sam, realizing his whole joke was watching Dean die over and over again. Dean watched his brother die once and he almost ate his gun. God only knew how Sam was functioning this much after a hundred, but he always was stronger than Dean.

The Trickster, unfortunately, was a master at avoiding detection. Stronger or not, there was a limit to how bad you could push someone and Dean had a front row seat to his brothers end. How many days had Sam been forced to watch Dean die before he figured it out? How soon would he have figured it out if he wasn't going out of his mind watching what was going to be the worst day of his life happen every day and not be able to stop it?

Sure Dean had acted like his death was nothing in the beginning, told Sam he would have to let him go because there was no way to get him out of the deal. Sam had responded with his usual stubborn denial. Searching everything he could get his hands on for answers.

That Ruby bitch wanted Sam for something and fed him some crap line that she could save him. Even if she could, if it hadn't been a lie, she wouldn't have done it. She wanted Sam to roll over and beg at her feet like a grateful mutt and no way in Hell was that happening while Dean was around.

The next few months wasn't about getting him to stay, it was finding a way to keep his brother out the bitches claws when he was gone.

The Trickster had let them go. And it put Dean was on edge. It was never that simple.

Then when Sam woke up he was a shaky, wrung out mess of a man. This was not the brother that decided if Dean was leaving him in a year he was going to keep his memory alive by turning into him. This was his little kid brother who had a nightmare and needed his big brother to tell him it wasn't real and to hold him.

Their usual banter fall flat on both ends. Dean because his head was going a mile a minute trying to come up with a way to keep out of Hell's playpen and Sam from being a plaything and Sam was just so out of it every response was strained and brittle. His usual mountain of a brother looked like a soft breeze would break him to pieces and then scatter the remains.

Suddenly Sam was all gung-ho to get to New Orleans like a horde of demons was after them. Since the idea seemed to finally bring him out of his curled up withdrawn spot in the front seat…

Bring on the bourdon!

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Sam wasn't entirely sure he was doing the smart thing going back to Louisiana. Or just there. Did it count as going back if he never technically was there in a timeline that now never existed? Ugh where was Doctor Brown when you needed him or the British guy in the blue mailbox or whatever?

So many things were up to chance. Number one being that the person he was going to see even remembered him. This was gonna be a problem if he showed up on her dock and she had no idea who he was or why he was there.

She hadn't been that put off before and he had been downright jackass at the time. 'Course he had been getting his ass kicked by a diwata, an elemental spirit who was pissed off at a local gang for dumping bodies around its tree. That thing had tossed him up and down the bayou; there was not one single part of him that hadn't met a tree at high speed.

Finally the diwata flung him into a tree with such force it startled a curse out of him. Colliding against the tree had knocked the wind out of him and before he could even think of trying to gasp it back he fall into the bayou.

The water was so dark and cold that when he got back control of his limbs he couldn't figure out which way was up. Getting the breath knocked out didn't help, if anything it exasperated it more. Chest burning for air, eyes stinging from the water, limbs growing heavier as time went on without breaking the surface.

He wasn't sure when he closed his eyes or when he went unconscious. One moment he was fighting for air in the water the next he was laid out on couch so long it accommodated his size with ease and getting his first blurry eyed look at Saphira.

Or really just her eyes.

His head felt like it was full of cotton yet did nothing to dull the sledgehammer pounding against his skull. His throat felt dry and cracked, and everything from the neck down was tingling heavy. And in his fevered state his vision was blurred out in serious nearsightedness. So the first thing he could manage to focus clearly on was something big and blue and old and close.

In a surge of leftover adrenaline from drowning he moved to defend himself. Within a second his whole body, all six foot five of him, seized up, his body screaming at him 'Shouldn't have done that, idiot!'

There he was, no idea where he was, helpless and weak as a newborn at the mercy of whatever creature was leaning towards him. He was down to basic primal instinct, the constant hunting, the Mystery Spot, Dean dying, it had stripped him bare and skinned him raw. Everything in his being told him what was in front of him was powerful, maybe even more so then the Trickster, ancient and fearsome. Something that could see him dead in a second even if he weren't laid up.

But she didn't kill him.

Instead, she leaned in and gently pushed his hair that had fallen in his face back while laying a cool towel on his head that felt like heaven all the while making soft soothing sounds.

Now he felt the softness, the nurturing, and the protectiveness that flooded in and over his sickness like a blanket fresh out of the drier. How could something feel so dangerous yet also feel so safe. It was almost like that spark he felt when he and Dean had gone back home and he had finally met his mother and she smiled at him even though she was dead because of him. Warmth from the purest and simplest of loves.

His head swam at the overload, he felt like he had run around the world when in fact he had barely moved. He needed to sleep but sleep was never restful not since that first Tuesday, always in fits and spurts and never peaceful.

"Shh, I gotcha. You're safe." The voice said and he really needed to work on remembering when his eyes shut. But the weird thing was as he finally gave up that last bit of wakefulness, he believed the voice. Here, wherever that was, was safe.

That was a rare feeling, one he wasn't quite ready to let go of just yet. Not with everything in his life was utter turmoil.

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Dean considered himself a good brother. Here he was pushing his baby through piles of mud looking for someone who might hit the reset on his brother mental state. But it was because of all the mud on his ride that all semblance of gratitude was dissolving in a mental tirade of 'who the hell would want to live out here if they didn't hate cars so much?!'

Just when he was about to call this whole thing off and head back to give Baby a serious wash down, Sam informed him they were there.

How he could tell Dean had no idea, it looked like the same bunch of trees and water they had been driving by for the past hour. There was nothing there. Dean was beginning to worry Sam was more cracked then he thought.

"Alright, let's see what's got your panties in a twist."

"Uh, Dean?" Sam said, realizing he may have worried over the wrong thing. Saphira, whether she remembered or not, was a nice person, this was proved by her taking him in and still helping him even after he snapped and started throwing things at her head. Coming up here he wondered how do you walk up to a person and say "Hey, I don't know if you remember me and if you do I know the last time we saw each other I kind of threw things at your head but could you do me a favor?" Yeah, he didn't see that turning out too well.

Now it seemed he should have figured out how to tell Dean the rest of the story behind the Mystery Spot and more about who Saphira _was_ without him inevitably blowing up. Dean was an amazing hunter and wicked smart despite his goofiness, not that he'd ever agree with either, but he was a little bias about what and who he hunted. Up until a year ago he labored under the motto if it wasn't human he ganked them. Then he realized that some monsters could be nicer than most humans, that some monsters had enough in them to fight for some semblance of humanity.

How the hell was he going to make him stay out in his car while he talked to Saphira after how clingy he had been? Dean was hovering on a regular day, now between him dying and Sam having a breakdown there was no way he'd sit this one out.

"What? Your bayou mistress shy or something?" Dean teased.

Or something. Shy wasn't a word that went with her. Timid, sometimes, and only to test the waters. Once the waters were warm she dove right in. The mistress comment, though, brought a rare smile to his lips.

Knock, knock.

The sudden noise startled a squeak, yes, a squeak, don't let him tell you otherwise, out of Dean, and gave Sam a good jolt as well.

The person was hidden from view by the partition between the side and front window. How they had managed to sneak up on them was mystery.

Dean could see the hand that had touched his Baby. The hand pointed downward, signaling that the owner wanted the window down.

Warily, he did so, if only to tell the guy to screw off and that he had a gun.

The words, however, died on the tip of his tongue when he saw the person. Pretty sure his heart stopped too and instead went up, not down like his deal claimed.

A girl leaned down and folded her arms on the sill. The girl, in Dean humble opinion, was _Gorgeous_. Really, it was a wonder he hadn't run across her face in a Playboy, Victoria Secret or something.

Her skin was like cream, her face hide sharp bones smoothed over with a soft and friendly plush of skin. Her hair had a slight wave to it; it wasn't so much curly as it seemed incapable of falling in a straight line down her back. Black as the midnight sky it framed two of the brightest and deepest blue eyes that danced with mischief.

 _Da-mn_. This was so worth the mud on his car. Sorry Baby.

Dean would have been happy to just set there and stare at her, in her tight black jeans and peach blouse with crossbones embroidery at the neck and wrists, until the hell hounds came for him. Hell for like thirty seconds he forgot they were even coming for his ass soon.

"Hey, Sam been a while." She smiled over at him, her eyes dancing with some untold joke. Her voice matched her exterior; smooth, musical, the barest hint of an accent that couldn't be placed, all adding to her mystical aura.

"Yeah," he answered lamely. A month on her couch and that was the best he could come up with. Granted talking wasn't something they did much of in their time together, really it was all a mutual staring contest.

He looked at her like a puzzle, trying to fit all the little pieces together, and when he thought he was making progress he'd find a whole new pile of pieces under the table to add in.

On the outside she looked young, like around his age, but her eyes told the truth. They were deep and old, having seen a lot of things. The fall and rise of cities and people were in those eyes. Ancient, that's what she was. And…odd, very odd.

She looked back at him like he was someone precious to her. Like the more she looked at him the more her mind convinced her he had once been something to her, something she had lost and was afraid of losing again because this time would be devastating. How that was possible he had no idea.

Her being less than human was not as much a problem for him as it would have been if Dean were there. Sam was a Special Child, an unfortunate person who when they were six months old had demon blood dripped into their mouths that would give them powers around their twenty second birthdays and sometimes had their mothers burned to death on the ceiling on their rooms. He was one of the ones whose mothers burned. When his powers were coming in he felt like all kinds of freak and tainted. So no, he wasn't one to hold genes and biology against someone unless they used that as an excuse for the evil they did with it.

But it was good to know he wasn't alone in his freakiness. All the other Special Children were dead, even him for a time, that was why his brother was in the mess he was in. Like he didn't already have the guilt of holding Dean back from life to deal with. It was always Sam first, Dean later…maybe. He almost hated Dean for his lack of self-worth.

For once he wanted to be the one that came through for Dean, he deserved to have someone who cared enough to protect him like he did with complete strangers. With any lucky he was looking that person that could help him with that.

Her gaze moved to Dean. "You must be Dean. Heard about you."

"Hope it was good," he joked.

"The best," she assured. "You boys gonna come in?"

Dean turned to his brother giving him a look that read, 'we're going. Don't argue.'

Sam still wasn't convinced Dean should be around her for any amount of time, the truth was bound to come out, both the gaps in his story and who she was. The best he could hope for was a slow trickle as opposed to the whole damn dam breaking apart. With a Winchester track record it was likely to be the latter. But there was no getting out of it now. It was all moving too fast to try and spin it another way.

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The dock leading to her house was hidden. The brackets looked like branches fallen from the trees. Unless you were standing right on top of it you couldn't see it from land; a film of water covered it all. The lights from the house looked like fireflies in the swaying branches. Girl knew her camouflage

The inside was like Bobby's house only it had none of its rickety, worn down dusty status and all of its books covering every lore in every language, artifacts, weird gadgetries, and items for spellwork. Only they were off to the sides, clearly not a main focus in the owner's life but important enough to be within eyeshot.

The walls were white underneath the Marti gras necklace beads that strung across the walls from ceiling to floor. Dean was liking her more and more. Usually he'd be laying on his best charms but she only had eyes for Sam. Good for him, kid had a rough life being the Marilyn of their Munster family; the last three years especially had worn on him. If he could bag this blue eyed goddess he'd have no problem being defeated.

Though for the life of him Dean couldn't figure out how Sam knew someone in New Orleans that Dean himself didn't. Figured it had to be in his college days, spring break. Maybe one of his friends or Jess dragged him down because Sam wouldn't party on his own. His brother had always been a nerd like that.

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There was a marked improvement, Saphira noted, about Sam from when that last saw each other. Even after he got over the fever and his muscles lost their stiffness there had been a pale and waxiness to his skin and a weakness in his limbs.

He ate what was put in front of him methodically with a thinly veiled hostility as if he was substituting whatever he was after with that poor piece of chicken he was violently chewing. It almost made her laugh if she didn't think he'd turn that burning anger on her at the sound. His eyes rarely blinked, staring off at some far out point only he could see. The guy was broken, the body still warm but whoever lived inside was long gone.

So this is what I look like, she thought to herself watching him one day.

She had saved him because despite the detachment that had grown in the years she could never turn her back on those that needed help in front of her. But fishing him out the second she touched him, the second she laid eyes on him, a feeling came over her. A feeling she thought she'd never feel again. A feeling she thought she lost on the worst day of her life when she was only ten, the day she lost everything that had meant anything to her.

Sure she found her father and he had become her rock, her savoir from the rapids that threatened to drown her for a time before she decided to learn to save herself, like she had become his. But they could never replace what they had lost. It didn't mean they didn't fiercely love each other but in the darkest parts of their minds that didn't want them truly happy always whispered the other was inferior to what they had before.

They had done what any sound minded immortals do when dealing with problems, drowned them in distractions and habits till they forgot them.

In that moment holding a water-logged body against hers she felt it just the same as though not a day had pasted.

Family. True real blood related family.

No, it wasn't possible all of hers was dead, gone and buried. There was nothing left. But that didn't make it go away. It was a siren song to comfort him, aid all that ailed him and fix it however she could. True she helped complete strangers before but none had felt so necessary as this.

Maybe she was just projecting, after millennia of being alone the want and desire for it had finally taken its toll. But when he open his eyes and looked at her through his fever clogged vision all excuses crumbled away. Why or how didn't matter, what mattered was he was here and so was she. And she was looking a version of herself. Lost and beaten down, strength fading from exhaustion, once an awesome power now traded away for a good deed.

Feeling or no he didn't need another responsibility or another person to worry over so she stepped back, nerves getting the better of her. She fluttered around her house picking things up only to put the right back down and when Sam was mobile again his OCD would come up behind her and move it again, every time.

He didn't talk much and she didn't try to make him. Till he tried to scream his throat bloody one night. It was like the last bit of stone wall had been blown away. The strong silent statue of a man had become the fragile small thing in her arms. He cried and cried and then cried some more, through tears he gasped out the story of why he was there, how he lost his brother and at the same time his mind and who he hunted.

A cold dread filled her, there was only one person she knew of that had the power of time and space to do what had been done. But why? Why would her dad do this? Sam was a far cry from the vile and despicable creatures he usually tormented. Whatever the reason he had for doing it, she'd pry out of him later now she had to get Sam his brother back.

"I can get him back for you."

"No, you can't."

"Actually, I might be the only one who can. I can get the Trickster to put the whole thing back and you can get it right this time," she promised.

"How?"

She inhaled savoring the last second of peace they would have together before she shattered it with the cold hard facts. "He'll listen to his daughter."

It was still surprising that the brittle man that had been slumped so bonelessly on her couch with hardly any life in him was now the hurricane looming over her now. The man's anger was breathtaking when lit, made the Hulk looked like an offended Chihuahua. She took the venom spat words, some were pretty creative, and ducked what was thrown at her which only added to his ire. Even still, it hadn't been for very long and that outburst had cost him with his fever ravaged body.

Once he calmed down, passed out was a better term, she left to call her dad.

"'Ello, Ialapereji*," his chipper voice greeted her after three rings. Despite the dark cloud that was over head his version of her childhood nickname brought a smile to her lips.

"Hey Dad."

"Whatcha been up to?"

"Been having giant of a man crash at my place."

"You fox," he cried elated. "Who you been coped up with?"

"Guy by the name Sam Winchester. You've heard of him, haven't you?"

Dead silence rang on the other end.

"I might have."

She rolled her eyes so hard she wouldn't be surprised if he heard it over the phone. "He's a bit different from your usual lowlifes." A person, that's every kind, did things, good and bad, it was why they did them that decided if you killed them for it, at least that's how they came to see it.

"Didn't target him to make a point, it was to teach him a lesson."

Well, that was new. At first she thought Sam at the very least was caught in something he wasn't directly responsible for and was taking it in the teeth because he either was the only one who'd feel it, react to it, or the others weren't there to mess with.

Now she was thinking what was so special about him that Dad changed his M.O. That he'd keep to like a priest at Mass for years and was still committed to the switch. If it was so important it drew his attention then she was more than a little miphed he hadn't told her.

"Lesson? Well, I don't think he's got it. Whatever you got going I don't care just let him redo that Wednesday."

He answered her eye roll with a raised eyebrow. "Why does it matter if he does? You're there, you want him better, you fix him."

"I'm not what he wants or needs." It hurt to say that. This, whatever it was, mattered. But jumping in and taking over wasn't gong to do any good, it wasn't her right. That belonged to his brother. "Point is I haven't asked you for anything in decades."

"Tell me why I should? If I give him back his brother? And I'll talk to him."

She bit back a frustrated groan. Her fist clenched around the phone caught between wanting to throw it away and hitting the air.

"Because when I look at him I see myself when I was at my lowest. When I felt so alone and wanted to scream at the world that didn't give a damn no matter what good I did for it, what I paid so everyone else could smile and be innocent. He is me after I lost mom, and the times I ran. I always came back because you have never let me down. You saved me, now I'm asking you if I ever meant anything to you, to save him."

It was a low blow playing on his love for her to get him to cave but she knew this devastation all too well and wouldn't see another suffer the same. It was because of this that she got into more then half the harebrained schemes that she did, which usually snowballed into an avalanche but she never learned in any case.

"I give him what he wants when he still doesn't get it, it won't solve anything," he warned.

"Would it solve anything if he's dead? Because that's where this is going." And really it was amazing he hadn't done it already, but the way he said he had been going about the last six months, it was easy to see he'd never take the 'cowards' way out directly, if it happened on the job, however, he wouldn't have complained.

She felt like part of her dad knew this too. If he was as intent on teaching him a lesson he wouldn't have left him completely alone.

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Back at the present she was fighting back a smirk at the pair. Sam might be more of a puppy on sight with his floppy hair and big begging eyes that melted even the Rippers heart but Dean was the one wagging his tail and rolling over for a belly rub.

Freaking adorable.

The indescribable relief she felt hearing that muscle engine creeping outside. Sam was still a bit on the lean and tired side, and his brother. Yeah, she could she herself losing her mind if she lost that fine, fine boy from her side.

She felt the same feeling she had with Sam just as fiercely with Dean. She was okay with letting Sam go before because he needed his brother, but he came back. Now she wasn't sure it would be that easy to leave them this time. He owed her nothing, in fact he should have forgotten her. If there was even the remotest possibility he had the same feeling about her too. Well, looked like she was going get real familiar with that muscle car of theirs.

Sam sat like a coil ready to spring off. Throwing a bottle cap at made him jolt off the couch in fright.

"Dude, unclench. The only one taking last time hard is you," she laughed.

"Sorry, it's just last time was pretty intense."

"Not disagreeing but I'm glad it all worked out. We're cool."

"You guys hit it off on Mardi Gras?" Dean asked, taking a tug on the offered beer. Not noticing Sam tensing up beside him.

Saphira looked at him confused. Was he serious? "No I- uh- fished him out the bayou."

"When was that?" Now Dean was the one confused.

"Six months from yesterday." Was the prompt reply.

"Huh?" the hamster running on his head just had a heart attack and spun out, hitting the wall. Saphira looked like she had walked in a mine field, very unsure.

"Why did you tell him that?" Sam bit out. It wasn't her fault but here came the fireworks. Saphira pinned with a molten glare. "I didn't know you coming here was a secret."

"It wasn't."

"Then how come he doesn't know how you showed up looking like a warmed over corpse at my door?"

"What?!" Dean thundered. Now she looked ashamed at the jab.

"Okay, Sam what happened? And no more avoiding the subject. Spit it out."

More than anything, well secondly more than anything, Sam would have preferred to have felt the whole ordeal back in Broward Country. Forget a hundred Tuesdays, a hundred ways Dean had died, that stupid song that announced a new death, the scrambling like a rat in a cage trying to find a way out. The hopeless especially he wanted to forget.

"It was the time loop. You died," Sam answered hollowly.

"Yeah, we've been over that. We caught him, we got out."

"No. I thought it was over, it wasn't Tuesday anymore. But you still died. And I didn't wake up. For six months I didn't wake up." As Sam explained his voice grew more watery and it all crashed down on him again.

For six months he lived with how life would be without Dean and he came to the conclusion, he didn't want to. This past year he said he could do it, that he would do it, and he just couldn't. He'd called Dean selfish for not wanting to be alone and sold himself to alleviate the problem. But when his time came Sam was at every crossroads he could find to trade places and no demon ever came.

So he hunted what he could find hoping if he was malicious enough, cold enough, reckless enough, he'd see Dean again or at least not have to live with his absence every second with each day.

Worn as he was in the end he wasn't stupid. He gets a call from Bobby saying he's found a way to get the Trickster the day after Saphira says she'll get him to fix it.

He had been wanting for that day when he finally found him, could finally make him pay for the hell he had put him through. Confronting the illusion Bobby, he pulled all his reserves to be strong and down to business. Then he actually saw him and he broke.

He wasn't strong, he wasn't tough. He was tired, bled dry. It was all too much to handle alone, he wished he'd grabbed Saphira to go with him at least then he'd have someone.

A film of tears layered his eyes, his breath became a whisper, and he spoke in broken half-finished sentences. He felt like a child. He couldn't handle any of it.

He pleaded for a chance. But even as he did, he wasn't expecting anything. With a lecture of how he should learn how to live alone better because that's how it was going to be and a crypt warning he got his chance.

He liked to think their little hook up at Crawford Hall meant something to the Trickster, that he cared enough to try and help him through the dark days to come granted in the most fucked up way possible. The Trickster certainly looked slightly remorseful when Sam started tearing up. But he was bar none the most powerful thing he had ever come across and a moment shared between the two did not entitle him to make demands to save his brother from his fate. Plus, he didn't think he'd deal it will if he had asked and the answer be no, that would be the last nail striking home in his coffin.

The ground seemed to shift under Dean. He hadn't just died a hundred different times, he'd died and stayed dead for six months. Six months he was in hell and Sam was up here hunting, not living, alone.

If finally hit him when he died Sam might not be that far behind him. What the hell was he doing hunting afterwards?! He was supposed to go back to college, finish being a lawyer, find another girl and be normal like he always wanted. He sold his soul not only to get Sam back and say goodbye properly but to get Sam back his chance to have the life he always wanted, the one Dean tore him away from in the dead of night.

Sam might have blamed himself for Jessica's death but Dean knew the blame was squarely on his shoulders. If he hadn't taken Sam, if he had been man enough Jess would still be alive and with Sam and maybe he'd have finally gotten a call from Sam one day saying he'd might a girl and he was getting a sister-in-law.

It wouldn't have been the family of hunters Dean had always thought of but at least Sam would be happy.

Now the next time he died it would be for real and there'd be no Trickster to beg a mulligan off of.

If he didn't want Sam alone he shouldn't have sold his soul, a voice in his head sneered. He didn't need to hear that crap now.

"How you get the Trickster to send you back? To Wednesday I mean?" Dean asked.

"His daughter called in a favor." Only it wasn't Sam who answered, it was Saphira.

 _Her_?! She was the pompous douchebags daughter. The confession had him looking at her with new eyes…eyes.

Dean vehemently cursed his own stupidity for falling for a pretty face. How many times had his father drilled into him the importance of not letting appearances deceive him into dropping his guard? That the ones who could appear human were the worst dangerous. Physical beauty could be hiding the deepest of rotting evil creatures. You ganked rotten creatures, you don't sit with them in their bayou house while they poked fun at your brother.

With the realization it was like a film had fallen away and now all Dean could see where the things that marked her as something to hunt. The way she moved was graceful, the kind that came from familiarity with not only the area but also in one's own body, something that shouldn't be this far advanced with her age.

Looking up, deep jade met midnight blue and he knew she wasn't human. This was an old being sitting in front of them and this put Dean on edge.

His hand flew to his gun. Barely was his arm out ready to shoot when it was slammed down her hand clamped over his and the gun.

Gone was the sweet unassuming girl that he'd wanted to flirt with, in her place sat a primed huntress.

"Well," she started with a sharp grin. "That saves me the trouble of how to get the interview started."

"What interview?" Sam asked baffled by her words but not her change in attitude. So he knew what she was and he still brought Dean here? Damnit.

"When you two leave here, I want to go with you."

"Not happening," Dean denied. She gave them a fond look and laughed, "You really are as cute as you look. You say that like I'm giving you a choice. Either way I'm not staying here when you leave. You can either let me come with or I call my dad again and he'll hold you wherever you go till I catch up."

Part of her was put-off using her dad to intimidate them especially Sam so soon after what he'd been through but damnit she's found her fix after millennia of forced sobriety and she was going to indulge.

"What makes you think you can handle it if you did?" Dean questioned, because she wasn't going but he could do with a laugh.

"I have been off and on through the years."

"Then you really haven't," he informed her. "It's not a switch."

"That's what you think. You'll find I've done a little of everything."

"So why quit?"

She shrugged. "Lost the point to. Or maybe it's realized. Why bleed and break yourself when no one cares that you are. It's always better fighting with someone at your back."

It wasn't so much that normally she would be something they'd hunt, well it had a little to do with it for Dean since he had no freaking idea what she was. And he didn't like not knowing.

But Dean didn't want anyone else coming and mixing themselves up with their lives. Every time it ended badly if not catastrophic. Jo, Gordon, hell even getting Dad back was horrible. The odds were even lower because she was a girl. The women they hung out with, who started to mean something tended to die violently. Partially when sex was involved. More often the not any woman they showed an interest in that lasted more than one night meant they were open to physical, mental, or emotional suffering. It wasn't enough the universe rained it down on them, it did it to those around them. He had barely three months left till Hell called his number, he didn't want some stranger intruding in on the last moments he had with his brother.

"No," Dean growled at the same time Sam said, "Okay."

Dean almost dislocated his neck whipping around to stare at Sam. He didn't stare long. In a flash he was up with his hand fisted in the back of Sam's shirt hauling him off the couch and toward the hallway.

What the hell was with his brother cozying up to these creatures? You'd never catch Dean doing something that stupid. However helpful or hot or powerful they were. They weren't human, end of story. Never be vulnerable or show them a soft side for them to stab at.

"The hell, Sam? What Ruby's not enough for you, you've got to have a sleepover with whatever the hell she is?"

"Dean, she's old, she's been around. Surely her dad's taken her places. She might know how to get you out of your-"

"Damn it Sam! Enough about my damn deal!" Dean roared.

Dean should have seen this coming. Really the signs had been there, clear as day. After he had been electrocuted and his heart had been beat to shit Sam had run around like an idiot looking to beat his death sentence and keep him alive. While that had been going on he completely froze everything else in his life; eating, sleeping, showering, to focus on fixing Dean's problem and nothing else. And he had through a faith healer whose wife had killed someone else just to make it so.

Granted Sam was more reserved this time around but now it was channeled into accepting help from even less than savory characters, despite instinct telling him to run away.

He really should have nipped this in the bud way back then but he had just gotten Sam back after two years. He didn't want to push so hard Sam would leave again, so he kept quiet about it. Cause that was the thing.

He couldn't stand being alone, having no one or Sammy being hurt. He needed Sam to be okay or by his side so he could fix things when they went wrong, if he couldn't have his brother tagging along then he'd settle for safe even if it meant Dean would take on all the pain. As long as Sam would live it didn't matter what happened to him.

Now he was dying with no faith healer and Sam was pissed off so much at his acceptance of it he would and had gone behind Dean's back to any and every one who could offer help. So desperate was he that he ignored the obvious warning labels that came with the messengers.

Ruby had said herself, there was no way out. But Sam wouldn't believe him if he told him. He was determined to save Dean, to have the happy ending that was forever out of reach with their family.

" _No_! I'm going to save you, Dean," Sam swore.

"Why is this so hard for you now? It's not like you haven't lived without me in your life before."

Bringing up Sam leaving him and Dad for college was uncalled for. It was the gut punch and groin kick in one. It wasn't like he thought about that every day since he left. He didn't want to leave Dean, before that last fight he thought of asking Dean to go with him. Sam would go to college Dean could hunt around California maybe take an out of town from Bobby or Dad once in a while. But as soon as Dean heard he was accepted he was already feeling abandon and Sam never got to correct him because Dad had stomped in and tried to put a stop to it.

He left to get away from his dad and his obsession; he never wanted to make Dean feel left behind. But Dean cared too much about what Dad wanted or needed, he fell into pace behind Dad cutting off all ties with him until he came and got him from school.

"That was different. At least in college I knew you were out there somewhere, you were always a call away. There's not going to be that this time."

"I'm sorry for wanting you to live." The blunt and coldness hit Dean hard. "But how come only you get make the stupid decisions to save your brother and I don't? I care as much about what happens to you as you do me, Dean. I had to make it through six months without you. I had to push pass the fact there was nothing left of you around, no blaring music, no hitting on everything with a pulse with a smile as obnoxious as possible, and no getting pissed at me for wanting to talk to you about anything that wasn't hunting, not having someone who knew me.

"You only had to do that for a day. You have no idea what six months is like. What hurt the most was thinking about all the times you saved me, gave up the things that mattered to you and I could never get to do the same for you. I couldn't save you any of those days and I still can't now. This whole year has been worse than losing Jess and Dad.

"I wasn't okay with letting you go when you were dying from your heart, or when you got clawed up by the demon or when the car crash put you in a coma and you're reaper was after you. Fact is, if Dad hadn't made the deal, I would have. I am as selfish as you when it comes to having you taken away. If you're not sorry for dealing with demons to keep me alive then I won't be either. You may not think you're worth it but I do, and I will until that demon contract is shredded and ash."

Dean didn't want to admit it even to himself but he was touched that Sam cared that much. He didn't want to die any more than Sam wanted him to, but there was no getting around his deal. After he made the deal Bobby had torn into him something fierce. Asking him if he was screwed in the head, if he had so low an opinion of himself? And really, how could he not?

Since childhood John had drilled into his head that when they failed, people died. So in his mind he figured that if he did everything right, everything that was asked of him, he could not only save people from the same evil that took his mom and a good part of his dad but also get his father's pride and acceptance. Every day he followed every order without question, because questions would slow him down from saving people, spilling blood and breaking bone both his own and others, for John's revenge crusade and his own pipe dream about his father.

John had been a good and caring man and father before the fire. Afterwards it was like the fire had burned that side out of him. He plunged deep into the supernatural side of the world and declared his war on it. John Winchester had wanted soldiers and he got that with Dean.

To make his family happy he had shredded any unique part of himself, his passions, wants, desires, ambitions, so they wouldn't have to. And he believed it was worth it if it kept them alive and together.

But while Dean was obedient, Sam was defiant. Never would he roll over to their dad when he demanded so. He wanted to know why, and would not settle for less. Then Sam had gone away to college, and it ripped a hole in Dean's heart. Even though he knew it was to get away from John's rules and out from under his thumb and finally stretch his independent wings without getting a dressing down, it felt like Sam had just left him. Left him to keep being John's good little soldier. After everything Dean had done and sacrificed for him it was like a knife in the gut that still hurt even after they teamed back up.

After Sam came back, he kept thinking one day he'd wake up and Sam would be gone, gone to have a normal life that didn't have Dean in it. But he had stayed and they found Dad only to lose him. At the end did he get an 'I'm proud of you' or a 'Good job, Dean'? No, all he got was one last order; to kill his brother. To kill Sammy.

He couldn't do it, never would be able to not even for the one reason he gave for everything; because Dad told him to. The good soldier, the son that stayed and always did what Dad said died the day he woke from the coma.

Dean had hit the wall, this was one order he could not follow. And he didn't, not even when all the evidence said he should. He could never watch the light fade from those big hazel eyes, not when he had been there the day they opened.

In the end it didn't matter if he could, he still had to watch. That day holding his baby brother's cooling body, kneeling in the mud while it rained, Dean realized when his dad had died the ground had simply shifted beneath him. When Sam died, the world crumpled and the sun went black.

Sitting there staring at the still body that use to bounce and babble five miles a minute and never would again. He couldn't take the pain. Why, why was it him that outlived everyone? What was so damn freaking special about him? Better people then him had paid his dues so he could live, and this was what he lived for?

He had known he couldn't save everybody, one person can't save the entire world, partially when he can't get to the other side of it because flying terrified the crap out of him. But damn it, he would save Sam, no matter the consequences.

God, he needed a beer. And maybe one of those MIB flashy memory things. Life would be so much easier with those things.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because there was nothing you could do about and I wanted to forget it."

"Doesn't matter if I could do anything about it, if a whack-job drops you in a loop you tell me that shit. I don't want to find out from their daughter."

"She's not so bad," Sam protested.

Was it bad eavesdropping on them? If so she was very bad indeed. So, Dean had a demon deal huh?

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Coming back into the room Dean wasted no time making his way to the door, barely even glancing at the being seated in the chair. "Well, thank you for the talk," Dean said sarcastically, "but we don't hang out with things that ain't human. So we'll take our chances with your dad. Bye."

"So don't want to know about demon deals?"

Every molecule in his body froze. At first nothing happened, nothing moved. All the sounds had been sucked out of the world.

No, he was not going to let Sam and him get sucked into another bitches ploy to use them for whatever sick game she wanted to play.

Not turning around he asked, "What do you know?'

"Oh, I know deals."

"Yeah, how?"

"I made my own deal with the devil," she grumbled fiddling with a leather band on her wrist.

Reluctantly she had his attention. "What'd you ask for? Youth?"

She scoffed, "No demon would ever grant that. Money, sex, frame, health, life of another. These are things they'll grant in droves but never immortality. They can barely wait ten years to collect the soul, they wouldn't enter a deal where there's no profit in it. Beside all this is," she gestured to herself, "is natural."

Won't nothing natural about this. "How do you know so much?"

"I slept with a demon once or twice."

"So when you say you've done everything, you mean everything." Somehow, despite his disgust the turn in conversation amused him.

"He was mad because a client got in a bar fight and killed. Little fact they don't tell you, if you withdrawal early you go to where you were originally meant to. Meaning you die now and not when it's due you ride the escalator up."

"Also as a side note, when you kill a crossroads demon any deals they've claimed that haven't come due are null and voided. So if you've axed any you've saved someone being dinner for the hounds."

So the demon Sam ganked, whoever made a deal with it was free. Sam hadn't even thought about anyone else when he pulled the trigger, just that the bitch couldn't save Dean and he was so angry.

And that had eaten at him since. It wasn't that he killed the innocence person locked inside while the demon played pilot, it was that in that moment Sam genuinely didn't care. It was the lack of caring about killing someone that scared him. Dean had once said the things he was willing to do to protect Sam scared him and Sam at the time had thought he knew what he meant. It wasn't until the body hit the ground in the crossroads did he realize he had no idea.

"So let's see powerful demi-god on speed dial, vast knowledge of the supernatural, and fighting experience to later be showcased, how's my admittance looking?"

Smug little shit she was.

"You're in," Sam answered. Dean was going to need a neck brace if this kept up. "She's done more in an hour then we have in nine months. What's a trial run going to hurt?"

"Alright, just let me grab my bag," she disappeared out of the room.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Dean growled. "I'm thinking she's not looking and we can hightail it out of here?"

"…Sammy, when'd you get so devious?"

He didn't want to leave, not after everything she did for them but no one else was going to get hurt or die for them. He'd had enough. Helpful or not he didn't want another body on his conscious.

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Walking to the car Dean reached in his pocket for his keys, eager to get baby back on the road. Feeling slightly renewed at living to thirty with his brother, despite being brought up to not hope for miracles. The plan was still the same; find the bitch Bela and steal back the Colt then find the boss demon and refund his ticket for downstairs.

But he only grabbed at air and lint, the keys weren't there.

"You got the keys?" he asked Sam. Sam looked exasperated at him. "You never give me the keys."

"Well, I don't have them. So where are they?" he demanded.

A whistle sounded behind them. There was Saphira, with a duffel bag at her feet, a hobo bag on her shoulder and Baby's keys jangling in her hand. "Kind of hard to drive off all martyr-like without your keys, ain't it boys?" she gloated.

"How'd you get those?" Dean demanded, not liking someone else having Baby's keys, not one bit. "A better question is how long have I had these and you just now noticed? You don't strike me as the kind of guy that doesn't know when a woman's got her hands down your pockets," she fired back, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"But seriously did you think that trick was going to work? Can you not guess who came up with the din and dash?"

"Look, it's great you want to get back in it again, we could always use the help out there but let us deal with our own crap and appreciate that we're doing you a favor and saving your ass," Dean said

"You're protective Alpha male role is sweet, really it is. But I think I can make the big girl decision to come with you by myself and I'm going," she insisted.

Seeing the reluctance to agree she continued, "Look, you don't trust me, you don't know me, you don't like me but right now you need me. I'm a wealth of hunting knowledge; you seriously want to leave that to waste in a swamp. Just give me a chance. I get someone killed, I screw up, or I piss you off so bad you can dump me on the side of the road night or day where ever you want and I will thumb it back here myself. You'll never see me or even have to think of me again. Just one chance," she coaxed.

Why would she want to come with them? She had a home and a comfy life, basically everything Dean and Sam had been denied since they were kids. They grew up on hustling drunks at bars for money and scheming credit cards. They slept in one nameless motel after another or, when the drunks were smart and the cards were low, in the Impala.

In-between that they were doing one thankless job after another that at the end of each one just added to the weight of their bruised minds and souls. No one got into this job willingly; it was out of revenge or hatred, almost never for pure selfless reasons. Yet here was this girl wanting in just to help two people she barely knew.

They had to admit her old age knowledge would be a great asset but immediately having her be a best friend in close quarters was a big leap from stranger from the swamp with good intentions. And despite what she had no doubt seen with her years they weren't fans of giving more horror for her nightmares any more they were themselves. The fact that they still didn't know exactly what she was, was still concerning, adopted asshole dad notwithstanding.

Girl fights dirty, Dean thought, she just might make it in this after all. His hesitant agreement must have shown on his face because her grin got wider and got a hint of triumph in it. She knew she had won.

"One chance. I get even an idea you'll screw something up you're out, got it?" Dean argued. In answer she just tossed the keys back at Dean with a superior air surrounding her.

"When do we start?" she asked pumped.

They just did.

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*it's enochian for star

 **Reviews get pie.**


	2. Jus in Bello

**Author's note** ; I was gonna wait for more reviews, but figured a flame grows brighter with a little fuel thrown on.

 **Disclaimer** : Once again, the boys belong to Kripke, I just like playing with them.

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Dean was being deliberately ridiculous…again.

That thought had been running a circle through Sam's mind like a mantra for the past five hours.

Dean had quickly gotten into the habit of glancing at the rearview mirror every five, ten seconds or whenever he believed something suspicious, which so far was a tossup between conniving blinking or the more dastardly, breathing, was going on in the backseat.

Sam was beginning to wonder what would happen first; Dean giving himself a headache or his eyes finally rolling out of his head from overuse.

Why was all this happening? Answer, a one questionable Saphira.

Sam had run into her down in New Orleans when he was hunting the Trickster to get him to bring Dean back. He was hunting a nasty spirit in some part of the bayou which turned out to be her backyard. It didn't like being hunted _at all_ and proceeded to throw him into every tree and root it could, Sam had lost count after twelve.

Getting thrown around like a ragdoll had caught her attention and she came looking for the cause. If she hadn't gotten there in time he'd have joined Dean in a more southern location then he was thinking; the way he had always thought about, but didn't have the courage to do. It was why he went after everything with a reckless abandon and slight hope the odds would kill him.

She took him back to her house, with walls bejeweled in Margi gras necklaces and a royal purple couch she parked him in for a weeks. He would have been off that thing and back out searching if a bullet wound he'd patched up the week before hadn't gotten seriously infected from the swamp water, she helped him sweat it out and made him stay till he was healed.

He hadn't been the nicest of lodgers; in fact, near the end he was downright vicious. At first it was only annoying that she wouldn't let him leave and despite only weighing 120 pounds wet she always muscled him back onto that damn couch of hers.

Then he realized that his host wasn't all that human. Once his head had cooled off he was able to see the difference in the way she moved, every slight movement came with ease honed from years layered overtop the other years that didn't match up with her age.

Her eyes; ancient, beyond ancient eyes in a young, un-aging body. The interplay of shadows so vast and deep, shadows he had grown up seeing in the eyes of hunters, in his brothers, but so much more advanced. Yet there was light that swirled in time with the shadows, so whatever she had seen or done she wasn't consumed by it.

One day it had all collapsed in on him, his last bit of reserve went out in a tiny puff. She let him use her shoulder as a tissue for hours it seemed as he gasped out his sob story. Finally having to give someone some of the weight he held inside him less he be crushed like Atlas when the world became too much. When he was done she promised she'd help get the Trickster. When asked how, she responded with, 'he'd listen to his daughter.'

That's when he started the throwing, both verbal and physical. But she didn't hold it against him. He had been through an emotional rollercoaster and at her Dad's hands no less, dodging a few objects lobbed at her head and taking his venom in stride was the least she could give him. Even after all that she still called her Dad to get him to meet him and put it all back the way it was.

He conned Dean into taking him back to the bayou home where he had bottomed out to both thank her for what she had done for him and to ask for one more favor, one last shot in the dark. And she didn't disappoint. Not only was she a walking, talking wealth of info of all things hunting, but she had also offered her help in getting Dean's deal voided. The only problem, she was as sassy and as crazed as her dad.

They, at first, denied the offer because the brothers knew their track record with people who lent them any kind of hand, it left quite the collection of bodies to float down the river. There was too much death in the air already, they didn't want to ruin her but she was persistent. And now she was stretched out in the backseat.

For all their needling about letting someone they hardly knew into their life, Saphira wasn't that much of a change. But then she hadn't said a word since they got in the car. She seemed content to just quietly watch the scenery change in different shades of blurs, not doing a thing to merit the level of resentment Dean glared at her through the mirror.

Sam couldn't decide what Dean was more pissed at her for, either stealing his Baby's keys right off of him, being a supernatural creature he couldn't gank without feeling slightly guilty over, or being the Trickster's daughter.

Regardless of the reason, Dean was being a Jerk.

Sam had entertained the idea that to a normal person, they looked like a couple of college kids taking a cross-country vacation, or if you felt the atmosphere in the car, more like two regular Joe's on a road trip that had picked up a hitchhiker.

You know, if hitchhikers were self-proclaimed millennia old beings that held your keys hostage to hitch a ride to help you out of a demon deal, where if you fail you get your ass chewed on by hellhounds.

You know, the usual, and sadly it was usual for them.

She dug and clawed for that spot in the back though. Leaning into the car when they first showed up, a look of relief flashed through her eyes. Sam was sure if they hadn't come back she'd have found her way to them. He didn't know how but somehow he was sure all three of them had met before. The safety he'd felt after first waking up was the same kind he had around Bobby and Dean. And Saphira was so old that anything familiar to her was beyond dust. She wouldn't have past them up if it meant having just one more hour in the warmth before being sent back to the cold.

Sam was sure a friendship could be reached once the awkwardness past. Only every time he opened his mouth to talk to her, Dean would divert his eyes from the rearview and windshield to glare at him. Apparently while Dean had let her bargain her way into his car he was in no way going to let her stay any longer pass the next fuel up.

They pulled up to a station that was more dust and rust then anything. The sad state of the place was more noticeable since the owner had bought one of those creepy waving inflatable things. Happy to stretch his long legs after being confided in the car Sam was the first out.

"I'd offer to switch so you'd have some room for your legs, but I don't thing Jeeves would go for it," Saphira told him over the roof.

The idea of Dean wearing a chauffeur hat made Sam smile; it almost hurt his face to do so, using muscles that had only been frowning or blank up to this point. "No, I don't think he would."

"You want anything?" Dean asked, obviously not hearing them.

Before Sam could say he was going in anyway, he was still a little shaky about being out of eyeshot with Dean, Saphira had looked at the shack that called itself a gas station and in the same second announced, "No, thanks. I don't think this place sales my kind of crack."

She had said it dismissively and clearly meant it as a joke, but they still gave her odd looks.

"Word vomit," she shrugged non-repulsed. One thing Sam had quickly realized with her was that she talked like an old person, what was inside her head more often than not got past the mental filter and out her mouth. Both had seen much, done more, and as a result wore their free speech right like a Russian fur. But as off-handed and insane as she sometimes sounded, everything led to some purpose.

"I would have said crazy," Dean poked.

"Depends on the lunar cycle," she joked, only to get a narrowed eyed glare. "Kidding. We need to work on the humor."

"Whatever, just stay here and watch the car," Dean ordered, stomping off to the pay.

"Watch it do what?" she called after them, laughing and eyeing the inflatable.

"You think you can lighten up on the lockdown?" Sam asked causally, watching Dean forage for his daily supply of junk food.

"We don't know anything about her; what she's like, where she's been, hell, what kind of monster she is. You know what Dad would say to us if he found out what she was and we'd let her get this close?" Dean questioned.

Rolling his eyes, Sam replied, "Dean, the reason we don't know anything about her is because you refuse to talk to her. All she's done since we left is blink and breathe. She probably thinks if she says one wrong thing you'll boot her out the car while it's still moving. And at your speeds, it could kill her."

"I'd slow down."

"Dean," Sam scolded, than waited until Dean met his eyes. "If you didn't want her to come then why'd you let her in the car?"

"She had Baby's keys, Sam."

"She wants to help. She's not a monster, but she has been doing this longer than anyone we know combined. We could use that right now. We both get a say in when and if she leaves. Agreed?" Sam asked, watching Dean hem and haw over the response.

"Yeah, sure. But first sign she's does anything freaky I'm gonna-" he cut off as he stared dumbfounded and gob smacked at something over Sam's shoulder.

Sam turned and followed his gaze and almost broke down in hysterical tears. The stupid inflatable flapped spastically outside and now he watched as Saphira danced with it.

"Oh yeah, she'll have us choking on our blood by sunup," he agreed dryly trying and failing to hide his grin.

"Shut up."

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Gas paid for, fresh supply of sugar, fat and cholesterol in hand, Dean approached the car, cautious of the bizarre sight. His opinion of her wasn't getting any better with her looking like an escaped mental patient. It did, however, turn to reluctant amusement when he was close enough to hear her humming to the tune of Queen's Somebody to Love. Least she liked the classics.

Noticing them she slowed down to a gentler sway till finally coming to a halt.

"Sorry, I just saw this flapping awesomeness and my brain just went 'what the hell!'," she announced cheerfully, with the hand gestures to match.

It was then Sam realized what it was about her that made him want her with them. He had told Dean she had been in the hunting world longer then everyone they knew and was not only still alive, but also despite seeing all the harsh and cruel things, the darker parts of the world offered, she still had a childlike sense of wonder at the world, it hadn't been destroy yet.

She smiled, laughed and joked still. She had her own darkness make no mistake. It was easy to find when you were weighing through your own. But she powered on, she wasn't beaten down, not like him and Dean were, Dean more so.

Sometimes Sam wondered if Dad had even tried half as hard as he did to protect Sam's soul with Dean. Often he sure John had forgotten he even had two sons, he had his little baby boy and a soldier to fight in his war. Since he was a little kid Dad had let Dean see horrors that made Stephen King look like Dr. Seuss. Sam had gotten eight years without knowing because Dean protected him. No one had protected Dean.

Dad had never let Dean make a choice just for himself, it was always for the business or for Sam. It was only after he came back into the business did he realize this. How Dean snapped from a brilliant hunter to a nameless grunt under a tyrannical general.

He had no sense of wonder or romance because in John's opinion that got in the way of the job and so he never tried.

Now here was a person who could hunt the evil in the world and smile like she meant it afterwards. And maybe this was the actual reason for Dean continued distance from her. He couldn't believe you could do this job and be happy, like really happy. And if he was wrong, then he had made himself miserable his whole life for nothing.

Sam was sure it wasn't as easy as she made it look, all those years something would have put cracks in it, but she still held it together, she found a way to remember the good things in the world, and if by some miracle Dean lived to see next year Sam would need backup in making some changes with his hardheaded brother.

Dean had always tested people out to make sure they were okay when doing a job. Sam was already convinced she could do the job, hell she jumped to protect them both; he just needed to get Dean to see it too.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Back on the road, with Dean lightened up either by their talk or the brownie points Saphira racked up by acknowledging Dean's love of classic rock and music, Sam decided it was time to break the ice.

"So all that time, know any good secrets that didn't make the history books?"

She hummed in agreement then was quiet… for a long time. "Well?" Dean prompted impatient.

"I'm drawing a blank," she admitted honestly.

"What do you tell your friends?"

"I don't have any. It's just me and Dad."

She said it with no emphasis, clearly not seeing this as a disadvantage, but it sent a pang in their hearts. Well, wasn't that sad. "So you a hermit?" Dean questioned.

"Not really. I like crowds but over the years people haven't been that accepting of oddballs like me. Plus, I haven't had anyone I wanted that close. Oh, oh, I got one. I was married to a gay guy for seventy years," she announced.

"You were married?" Dean asked. After having heard the loner way she was with people, she hadn't struck him as the marrying type.

Suddenly he felt a pair of soft but strong arms wrap around his shoulders and a warm kiss being placed on his cheek with a loud 'Maw'.

"What the hell?!" he shouted stunned.

"That was for focusing on the married part as opposed to the gay part. If you had, you wouldn't have to leave me on the side of the road, I would have gladly of jumped out," she informed them.

"Why?"

"Because I can't blowup at every idiot that comes my way. Tried that for three months awhile back and it was exhausting. So I limit it to bullying, animal, child, and spousal abuse, racism and homophobia. For those idiots I have no fuse whatsoever for."

"Kind of like Dean when you don't get him pie," Sam grinned. "Because there's no reason to not have pie, okay? None," Dean protested.

"That's what I think with cheesecake," Saphira put in.

"Are you seriously comparing a knockoff cake to pie?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"It's creamy and delicious."

"Pie is flaky and awesome."

"Really? That's the adjective you wanna use to win this, something a stoned skater says."

"Alright, listen here, sister. I'll not be driving anyone around who disses the wonder that is pie."

"I'm not dissing pie, I'm merely saying when given the choice I'll go with cheesecake."

"Why would everyone choose crummy cake when they can have pie?"

"Maybe because cheesecake doesn't need to come in every flavor under the sun to win people over, it's amazing all by itself."

"You're crazy."

"And you don't know desserts."

"I've always liked ambrosia," Sam mused out loud. Only to have Dean give him the stink face. "Only you would bring a bowl of mushy fruit to a dessert conversion," he griped.

"What about a parfait? You can combine everything with that. Multiple fruit between whipped cream, or a multi-layered cherry pie."

"Don't talk about food unless you're buying," Dean pleaded thoughts picturing a leaning tower of pie.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Arriving at motel number 702, was as non-hassle as always. It was only when they entered their room did they realize there were three people to put up for the night and only two beds.

They could always share a bed; they had in the past but after Sam's growth spurt it never lead to a good night's sleep. Sam sprawled, Dean kicked. Not to mention it had stopped being not weird since they were ten.

One of them could be a gentleman and take the floor but that would lead to a bad neck and a grouch come sun up and there wouldn't be much gentleman about them then. And they definitely didn't want to share with her. For the obvious, she was hot and they weren't dead, yet, and even then their libidos would no doubt make for an awkward morning.

Turning to ask for a tiebreaker, they realized she had already decided for them.

She had made herself a little nest of spare sheets in the corner on the floor using her bag as a pillow, and was already asleep, her back to them. They would have woken her up and offered a bed, it was kind of pitiful the way she curled up in a corner, but she looked peaceful enough so they let her be and turned in themselves.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Dean had woken up a number of ways over the years; 1)suddenly; when he was still in the throngs of a nightmare,2) Dad running drills, 3)Sammy poking him in the ribs for breakfast, 4)women he had spent the night with leaving, 5) the sound Sam tapping away on his laptop, etc. But never has he ever woken up to a voice saying, "Oh, I'm getting heat from the guy in the hot pink thong."

Craning his neck, he saw that Sam and Saphira were up. Saphira sat straddling a chair in-between their beds still in yesterday's clothes; Sam was dressed sitting on the edge of his bed, both enraptured by an episode of Friends.

"Really?" he rasped. Because really?! An improvement would be Barney and that shouldn't happen, _ever_.

"This was the only thing that was not static or a how to art show," Saphira shrugged. "Course a little art never killed anyone."

"Remind me to tell you a story about a haunted painting that passed out Columbian neckties," he grumbled, stumbling his way to the bathroom.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

"Are you planning on coming out sometime this century?" Dean yelled at the bathroom door, impatient.

Two things he couldn't handle; traffic and people who took forever in the bathroom. His biggest concern with having a girl travel with them was that by her mere presence alone would mean more frequent chick flick moments. Now, he would gladly start one if it got her out quicker so he could get his damn coffee.

"You wanna back me up here?" Dean demanded at Sam.

"Not really," he denied. "Come on, Dean. She slept on the floor last night. The cleanliness of the beds is questionable, never mind the floor. "

"You do realize I lived through the times where a 'bed' was the ground, a mat, then a bag of flea infested straw that poked the hell out of ya all night long," she explained through the door. "A little petrified motel carpet isn't the worst I've slept on," she laughed.

"Pardon my sister Samantha, she's sensitive." Dean ignored Sam's answering bitchface.

The door flew open and suddenly Dean didn't need coffee anymore to wake up. He might have loosened up when it came to letting a supernatural being hang around him and Sam, because let's face it she was pretty much ordinary.

But the girl bit, well, that may take a while. There was only one way she seemed to dress, with an edge. A black shirt with purple stripes on the left arm, and red stripes on the right, a ripped vest with black jeans and boots and a magenta band in her hair.

Just…awesome. Figures the first girl that makes the point of hanging around them he both swears he's never going to touch, and there was the nagging sense of familiarity with her. That sister comment had slipped out without him knowing, but damn if it didn't feel like it hit its mark.

"Sorry, Dean. But girls have to do more than run a hand through their hair and pick the shirt that smells the least offensive if they want to go outside."

"I do a lot more than that," Dean argued, crossing his arms.

Her eyes raked him up and down. "Obviously." She mocked purred at him, then breezed out the door like it was nothing. Dean gave Sam a helpless look as if to say 'what-do-I-do-with-that?'

It was amusing to watch his brother, the unrepentant womanizer, so out of his depth.

"Waiting on you now," Saphira called from the parking lot, making them hustle.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

"Come on Sammy, we need a job and Bela and coffee…lots of coffee. Coffee first," Dean rambled gulping his coffee down.

"Who's Bela?" Saphira asked not taking her eyes off whatever she was doing with her pancake shaped taco spooning scrambled eggs into it.

"She's a bitch," Dean growled. "What's she done that's got you so pissed?" she asked amused, crumbling bacon over top the eggs.

"We helped haul her ass out of the fire and then she turns around and steals from us."

"Got it. Bitch; we hate her." She poured syrup on the impromptu breakfast taco and took a large bite out of it.

"Dean, we're still no closer to finding her then we were before the Spot," Sam protested. "How can we still have nothing?" Dean demanded.

"I can't find anything if there's nothing to find, Dean," Sam spat over the table. "Come on Sam. You went to college, use that big brain of yours and figure it out."

"You went to college?" Saphira asked, her mouth full. She latched onto the comment hoping to defuse the fight brewing between the brothers. If they starting a smack down they were going to get thrown out and miss breakfast. She'd rather not have to ride around with them when they were pissed off _and_ hungry.

"Stanford, pre law," he admitted. Three years ago it had been his dream come true. No hunting, great girl, living like he wanted without anyone scoffing at him for it. Now that's all it was, a dream that left a bad taste in his mouth.

Saphira whistled, "Impressive. I did Yale for a doctorate in history."

"You got a doctorate?" Now it was Sam's turn to be interested. "Yeah," she grinned like the fact was comical joke even to her.

"Didn't that involve like a mountain of paper work and research?"

"Paperwork, yes, of Everest proportions. Research, not so much when you live through it. For my dissertation I compared the Ancient Egyptian views with that of the small isolated town mentally. The similarities they showed to outsiders and new advances and crossed referenced that with their religious views that more often than not compelled them to acts of violence to these newcomers in both cases. Not to mention similar sacrificial aspects."

Was this the same girl who yesterday danced with a raggedy inflatable by a roadside gas station? Who watched Friends and dressed like a gothic pixie? And was currently chowing down on a pancake taco stuffed with bacon and eggs?

"I'm smart but I'm too lazy to bother with it most times." She waved the words off like she was too lazy even for them.

"Awesome. I'm spending my last few months riding around with a pair of poindexters," Dean bemoaned.

"Hey, I like to party with the best of them. I tried my hand at Dad's line of work with a professor who was _very_ hands on with some of his female students. Somehow little post-it notes with detailed points in the history of male circumcision _with_ visuals started popping up around him like bad pennies. He came in the one day sweating enough for a small lake, chalk white and had a nervous breakdown confessing the whole thing with the dean conveniently passing by," she smirked around her food.

"Well, that explains why we found him in a college. He discovered a new hunting ground," Dean said, disgusted.

"You did what now?"

"We met your dad before, when he was playing janitor at a college and ripping off tabloids," Sam explained. And feeling up tall fake electricians, he added mentally.

"You've met my dad more than once?" she asked more to herself then to them.

"Yeah, neither of them was pleasant," Dean grouched. "Why is that so weird?" Sam asked.

The whole thing was weird. Dad never showed this much attention to anyone that wasn't her. He was like her when it came to the world and its people. They were great fun to have but always held at arm's length. There was the odd person who came along and got close with her, but she was the only one Dad let in in his entire existence.

Now he was showing an interest in Sam. Hovered around him for a hundred days, spun the world into an alternate timeline just for him. He never put that much effort into one person before. Then there was the phone call, the immediate changed in attitude when she said Sam's name. He didn't want to torment him, but he did it anyway.

He knew something, something he hadn't told her. Something that involved both the brothers. Dean was dying; Sam needed to learn to live without him or something worse than being alone was going to happen. But why would he care? Even if these two were going to end the world, why not relocate them to a pocket dimension or any number of other things? She'd never known him to be shy when it came to flexing his powers. So there was only one reason why he put himself so far out there, to hedge around the two of them. It was because it meant greatly to him.

"My Dad has a crush on you," she announced.

"What?" Sam chuckled in bemused bewilderment. The thought was oddly endearing. He, Sam Winchester, was attractive to a thousands of years old trickster. Talk about an ego and self-esteem boost. Maybe his pinning wasn't so one sided.

"Not likely," Dean snorted.

Good feeling over.

Not that it mattered to him if Saphira's assumption was true or not. Sam had no interest in being in a relationship. And it had nothing to do with the fact the Trickster was a supernatural being or that he was a guy or even that whenever he showed up, he usually got put through the ringer. Truth be told in a screwed up way, what he did was touching. Though Sam wouldn't say where he was touched, especially after the Spot. No, it was the fact that he had had too many relationships end in death.

Jess had burned, Madison had to be put down, and Sarah had been so pure he didn't want to stay long enough to see himself taint it, no matter her assurance. Death followed him and brutally struck down those he cared for. Despite the Tricksters asshattery, Sam didn't what him the join the list.

That conviction didn't cover the looks they shared before at Crawford Hall, when he was just the janitor with golden hair and sunlight lite whiskey eyes and an infectious smile. At the Mystery Spot the tiny part of him that wasn't dark and twisted and exhausted from watching his brother die day in and day out, was relived he wasn't dead. Not that it meant anything or anything would come from it. But the possibility of returned affection was warming.

"Dad's never voluntarily hung around anyone. You must be something pretty damn special to break up his pattern," Saphira mused. She looked so pleased and dazed, Sam was actually surprised cartoon hearts weren't bubbling and popping around her, like a lovesick fool.

"He practically tortured him," Dean fumed.

"If you want to be negative about it, yeah. But Dad has never show an interest in anything that he didn't form from his own head. Plus, you'd two be a cute couple. You're a tree, he's a chipmunk. He'd build a nest out of twizzlers and chocolate and never leave. Keep him full of snickers, twinkies and lollipops, put him down for naps in the sun and he'll do whatever you want. And if he ever annoyed you, you could just pick him up and put him in your back pocket," she laughed.

"He's not going in the back," Sam retorted. "You want him in front?" she teased with the same waggle of her eyebrows that her Dad used.

"No, he's not going in any pockets, okay?"

"Okay," she conceded, taking a bite of her bacon. "Want him over your shoulders?"

"Okay subject change," Dean stressed. This whole conversion had gone off the rails. He did not want to listen to her put the Trickster and his brother…ugh.

"Remind me how that bag of nuts is a parent?" Dean asked.

"Right place, right time, gave really warm hugs."

"You're adopted?" It shouldn't have been that surprising. They didn't look anything alike, certain quirks in habits and speech were shared and they both had the same way of doing a 180 in mood from cheerful to malicious at the drop of a hat.

"I wouldn't say that around him if I were you. I'm his in every way that matters and that's the end of it. He's the only dad I ever knew and I couldn't ask for better."

"Really?" Dean asked with a skeptical eyebrow.

"You just don't like him because you only know him when he's working. You haven't seen him on a Pepsi Max buzz, instigating a stampede of llamas, or the porno mustache. Oh, _God_ , that moustache. The side burns and soul patch I thought were cool, but that simple line of hair above his lip was an absolute disaster. I couldn't look at him without laughing my ass off. And he couldn't parent over the cackling.

"He'd get so frustrated and stomp off, I'd feel guilty about it and call him back, see he still had the stache and break down again and that's pretty much how we spent thirty years together. Then again he's always been funny with the discipline. He yells when I get stuck in a sudden tropical storm and get hit with a glancing branch that breaks my arm but stealing the Degenerate Art from the Nazis, he has no problem with, wore the uniform and everything and enjoyed every damn second of it too."

"Why would he do that?" Dean asked.

"Because I told him it mattered to me," she explained sober. "After that all he said was, 'what do you need'?"

It's a sad moment when you realize your dad is more of a heartless ass then a Trickster who made you watch your brother die over a hundred times or killed you a hundred times over. John tried but in the back of their minds he could have tried a little harder. They didn't have to keep running, moving into a different motel every week. Bobby was a hunter; he had a house, a regular job, and was the best damn hoarder of supernatural lore ever. Every hunter looked to him when they were stuck in a hunt. He also was a grumpy drunk to their dad's angry drunk.

If John hadn't been so focused on the past he would have seen how badly he screwed up the future for his boys, the last things he had of his precious wife. Dean couldn't do anything that wasn't hunting; he had no respect for himself, and had willingly thrown away his dreams of anything that wasn't the family business.

Sam had a half-finished law degree, an ash outline of two of his girlfriends and was on his way to a lifetime membership to the celibacy club because Dad never had the decency to tell Dean what he was doing, a dying brother, and the knowledge that his whole family and anyone he ever thought twice about was dead because of the darkness that swam in his blood.

What a miserable group they made.

"Wait Degenerate Art?" Sam perked up. "Isn't that like at least 650,000 pieces?" All were either lost, in private hands, on display, or burned. Ever the scholar was Sam.

"You wanted to know a secret that didn't make the books," she preened. "Dad and I spent the whole of the 1930's replacing every painting, sculpture, and carving we could get our hands on so an egomaniac wouldn't destroy them for petty shit. Our last fuck you to the Führer was a personal favorite, making the Amber Room disappear."

"So instead of the book thief you're the art thief?" Dean asked, a glint entering his eyes. Most would mistake Dean as nothing more than a jock, out to get beer and party with busty woman. And he did, and enjoyed every second of it too, thank you, but that was only one part. Dean was actually as smart as Sam was. Maybe not as book smart, but street smarts, he was Rainman.

And what he knew was a thief no matter how retired could find another thief. "Do you think you could find one for us?"

"I might, guessing it's that bitch you were fussing over earlier?"

"Bela Talbot; British, sells artifacts mostly supernatural for crazy big bucks and likes the high life it buys."

"What'd she steal?"

"She stole Samuel Colt's Colt."

Saphira's eyes widened. "Ohh…done. Give me an hour." Making quick work of booting up Sam's laptop.

"What are we supposed to do, just sit here while you type?"

"Nope," she answered popping the 'p' while sliding a fifty dollar bill towards him. "Go crazy."

They both sat there stunned. In their lives cash was always tight, credit card fraud was good money but not always safe or fast money. Usually how they got something was with a five finger discount. Seeing Grant on the table brought out the hidden ten year old jonesing for a trip to the candy store in them both.

"Want more?" she asked idly, typing away like a fiend. Shaking himself Dean replied, "No just wondering how fresh the pie is." And flagged down the waiter.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Dean leaned back contently in the vinyl seat, belly full of more pie in one sitting then he had had in two years. Across the table Sam was trying to scrap up the last drags of his second vanilla milkshake. Damn, if this was how she was going to persuade them to keep her around, by all means. His last three months might be better then he thought possible. Hell if he kept this up he'd be insulated with so much pie the hellhounds probably wouldn't be able to move him.

"Okay, I know you said an hour, but if we stay here any longer you're gonna need to rent a wheel barrel. Just tell us what you got and you can finish in the car," Dean proposed.

"She's in Monument, Colorado," she announced, pushing the laptop to Sam.

"I ran a search on all the buying/sealing of anything that might have a connection to the occult or general supernaturalness, then narrowed it to deals done by women, then narrowed it down to any deals higher than three hundred thousand. There is a piece of rope said to have hanged the first actual witch during the Salem trails going for 1.3 million being sold by a woman in Colorado. I got the address of the only 4 star hotel in the city, ready when you are."

Seeing their surprised looks she grinned, "Glad you didn't leave me in the swamp, yet?"

"I could kiss you right now," Dean stated. "That's nice," she hummed. "But I'd prefer cheesecake," she winked. "Now let's go Good Bitch Hunting."

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

They rushed into the room. Sam first, followed closely by Dean, guns drawn, eyes sweeping over the room looking for any signs of shiftiness. Saphira brought up the rear, closing the door behind them. She had opted out of a weapon or really the gun Dean had offered.

They searched the place; bathroom was clear, bedroom/sitting area was empty save for a cart that had brought in breakfast and an unmade bed. Sam checked the safe while Dean rummaged through the drawers.

"Any sign of it?" Dean questioned. "Nothing," Sam murmured disappointed. "Sure this is Bela's room?"

"I'd say so," Dean replied grim. Holding up two wigs, one blonde, the other auburn. Sam nodded in agreement at his brother's find. Saphira was a little confused as to why that clinched it for them but kept quiet.

So much for being any help, she thought bitterly. She was racking up gold stars from Dean so he wasn't just waiting to send her packing, but if her usefulness wore out…

Then the phone rang.

They exchanged glances from each other to the phone resting on the bed.

Dean stared down at it then looked to Sam giving him a silent 'what now' shrug. Sam just shook his head. Dean picked up the receiver daintily like it was contaminated and held it near his ear not saying a word. He didn't have to.

Through the phone came a sweet voice, "Dean? Sweetie, are you there?"

Dean's face went from cautious to annoyed and pissed off in three seconds flat.

"Where are you?" he asked words clipped and icy. "Two states away by now," Bela replied promptly.

"Where?" he demanded. "Where's our usual quippy banter? I miss it," she asked, ignoring him.

"I want it back Bela… _Now_ ," he growled in a no nonsense tone wrapped in hard steel.

"Your little pistol you mean?" she asked idly. "Sorry, I can't at the moment." The bitch had never been sorry for anything unless it jeopardized her own ass.

"You understand how many people are gonna die if you do this?" he asked. Though why play on a conscience that wasn't there.

"What exactly do you think I plan to do with it?" she asked coyly.

"Take the only weapon we have against an army of demons and sell it to the highest bidder," he retorted, sarcastic and bitter. The only weapon that can save my life.

"You know nothing about me," she claimed, a slight edge entering her words.

"I know I'm gonna stop you," he smirked. "Tough words for a guy who can't even find me," she noted.

With a smirk shifting into a smile that could cut through razor wire, "Oh, I'll find ya sweetheart. You know why? Because I have absolutely nothing better to do then to track you down."

"That's where you're wrong. You're about to become quite occupied," she warned.

Dean looked at Sam and Saphira. Sam looked ready to follow whatever call Dean made. Saphira seemed a little shaky, like she was regretting all the bluster she had been showing up till now. Not that Dean would blame her, with Bela you couldn't even win with a rabbit's foot.

"Did you really think I wouldn't take precautions?" she teased. Dean's mind shifted into warp drive trying to figure out what trap this bitch could set up for them when the answer came.

The door busted off its hinges, doorknob imbedding itself in the wall, four cops filing into the room guns drawn and trained on them. Knowing they were out matched they raised their hands above their heads.

"Drop the gun! Get down on your knees!" they ordered.

"That bitch!" Dean spat at the ground. Guns tossed, cops wasted no time shoving them down onto floor while reading them their rights.

"Hey, watch it," Saphira growled. Dean glanced over at her to see a cop trying the push her away from them but not restraining her. She didn't have a weapon and the room looked like a woman had been staying there. Cops most likely took her for a victim. That thought almost made Dean laugh. Almost, if he weren't eating carpet.

It was probably for the best they were separating them. He didn't care anymore if she was the way she was, it was amusing listen and watch her. But he wasn't ready to be responsible for her life, long as it was. Too many before her had trusted him with theirs and lost it. He wasn't ready to screw up again.

As the cold cuffs were biting into their wrists a pair of shined shoes sashayed in the room and stopped in front of them. A sense of foreboding washed through them as they looked up at FBI agent Victor Henriksen in all his cat ate a whole aviary glory. "Hi, guys. It's been awhile," he smirked.

They were out of the fire and into Hell.

Wasn't it bad enough to get arrested in some podonk town, no they had to get the one FBI guy that practically drooled to lock them up. Victor Henriksen had been dying to get his mitts on them especially after they had broken out of the jail he had put them in.

They had always been pursued by law enforcement but none as intense as this guy. Couldn't blame him though, on paper they read like a bag and tag that would make an agents career. Course if the FBI had a freaking clue what was really out there they'd have 'lost' their file as soon as it landed on their desk.

"Take em away, guys," he ordered. The cops forced them to their feet and started to shove them out of the room.

"Hey, wait a minute," Saphira yelled. No way were these guys walking out of here without her. Not even a full week together and she had already screwed up. The only way things were taken from her was if she had no more fight left, and she was just starting.

"You can come down to the station to give your statement later, ma'am," Henriksen recited, not even looking at her.

Why would he? He had his prizes.

"I'm not a witness, you dime store rent-a-cop. I'm with them, we're partners," she claimed looking very insulted.

That got his attention. But it was obvious he didn't believe a word of it. He swept over her head to toe, appraising, and taking stock. Dean felt a stab of possession in his gut. He may have waited to kill her for what might as well be a skin defect for all the effect it had, but damn after a week he was starting to like her. She jammed to his cassettes, talked nerd with Sammy, and he knows she cleaned the layer of moldy laundry out the backseat and washed them. She was becoming theirs. And a Winchester didn't like having what was theirs taken from them.

She didn't take the lack of seriousness well, because she then proceeded to drive her elbow into a nearby cops gut. The guy went down _hard_.

Her head tilted to the side looking down at the cop with a disinterested air. "Uh-oh, man down. Assaulting a cop's still good for a twenty-four hour hold right?" she asked cheeky, holding her wrists out.

Now she had his full attention. He eyed her again trying to find what he had missed the first time. Still nothing that suggested she was as dangerous as the boys he already had. But the way she looked back at him, a small yet bright mad, daring glint in her eyes, promising he'd have more trouble if he let her go.

"Cuff her," he sighed.

"What the hell?" Dean growled. "You two are horrible friends for not inviting me on your chain gang," she commented.

"Thought you'd stay to bail us out."

"Good friends bail you out, great friends sit next to you in the cell. Trust me you're gonna want me with you."

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Victor was finding it hard to enjoy his collar.

For starters he hadn't tracked them down himself; a tip had been called in giving him the where and when, then the call was dropped. Normally he'd question the suspiciousness of it but was going to hold off till he got the Winchesters in cuffs and behind bars.

These boys were slippery. Disappeared in the middle of a bank heist and a hostage situation surrounded by cops, SWAT, and FBI, faked their deaths, all the while leaving a trail of people manipulated into thinking they were 'heroes', and broke out of jail.

If he had the resources they'd be done up in Hannibal Lector fashion, instead he got four small town cops and leg restraints. Not to mention there had been a curveball when he picked them up. They had a girl with them.

Nothing in their profile suggested they would partner up; in fact, they almost went out of their way to avoid it. They got help; of course, no way they could have lasted this long without it, but nothing long term and certainly not a female. He couldn't afford to screw up a third time with them.

Though the odds were stacking against him, flimsy cells that were built with only housing drunks in mind, and staff that didn't seem to grasp how formidable these two were. He knew their records backwards, forwards and diagonal. This girl he had nothing on, literally nothing. There was no record anywhere, no photos, no bank statements, phone records, etc. Nothing.

And she fooled him into thinking she was harmless. She was a cold fish when she took down that cop. But she only acted when they threatened to take her away from the Winchesters. But what was her connection to them? Why risk herself? Couldn't be anything as flimsy as blackmail, yet she lacked that crazed spark he'd come to see in these kind of whack jobs.

He'd keep both eyes on all of them and figure her out later. For now he needed to prep the station.

Striding into the station, eyes searching for any weaknesses that the boys could use to benefit any escape plan, getting the layout to better limit contact for the two. No way were they going to get away a third time.

"So did you get them?" Sheriff Dodd asked as the agent stomped swiftly through his station.

Local PDs never liked it when an agent came to town. They come in full of authority and belittle everyone they view under them. If they didn't have to catch murders and other crazies they'd never even look at each other.

"Where is everyone? I asked for all your men," Henriksen snipped.

"And you got them. They went with you on the raid," the sheriff explained with forced patience.

"Four men? That's all?" His tone suggested he thought the sheriff was lying.

Lord. Let this guy get his boys and get the hell out of my town, the sheriff prayed in his head. "Everyone I could drum up in an hours' notice," he answered honestly. "We're a small town, Agent Henriksen."

This excuse didn't appease the agent at all. He just walked off to the holding cells like he owned it. The sheriff and deputy followed.

They watched as the agent appraised their cells, true the most they held were vagrants who hassled the good folks, and the ever popular drunks. The way he looked at it, the sheriff half expected him turn his nose in the air and huff at the simplicity.

Instead the agent pointed at the only occupied cell and asked, "What's he in for?"

"Drunk and disorderly," the deputy answered promptly.

"Keys," he stated, hand out waiting. The man's entitlement was astounding. No explanations about anything since he walked in this station an hour ago and asked for men to go bring in two guys. Turned out to be two guys and a girl who knocked out one of his men. And still they had to concede with the agent's demands. "Now."

With the keys he opened the door and woke up the man inside. "It's your lucky night sir. You're free to go," he told the still out of it drunk.

"What the hell are you doing?" demanded the sheriff. He'd about had it with this brazen attitude.

"This way." Henriksen directed, ignored the flustered sheriff. "Agent Henriksen, you can't just release my prisoners," Dodd protested. "Agent Henriksen?"

"Look, I get it, you're Mayberry PD."

"Excuse me?"

"And this isn't how I'd do it if I had my choice but a tips a tip and we had to move fast."

"Look, Agent, this isn't my first rodeo," the sheriff ground out.

Henriksen stopped on a dime and gave the sheriff a flat look. "You've never been to a rodeo like this before. You have any idea who we're about to bring in here?"

"Yeah, a couple of fugitives and a girl who put one of mine in the hospital," he growled indigent.

"The girl was new, we didn't know she'd be there and I apologize for your man, but these boys you have no idea. They're the most dangerous criminals you've laid your eyeballs on. Think Hannibal Lector and his half-wit little brother. Do you know what these guys do for kicks? Dig up graves and mutilate corpses. They're not just killers, Sheriff. They're Satan-worshipping nutbag killers.

"So work with me here and I'll get them out of your hair and on their way to Supermax and you'll be home in time to watch the Farm Report."

Nodding, "However we can help." More man power Henriksen had the sooner him and his bag of nuts would put the town in their rearview.

"Those men of yours, post them at the exits," he instructed.

"Yes sir." Locals appeased for now, time to move forward. "Reidy?" Victor asked into his walkie.

"Yeah, Vic?" crackled the response. "Bring em in. Guess we're as ready as we're gonna be."

"Got it. On our way in."

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Walking in ankle cuffs was the most complicated thing ever attempted, at least as far as Dean was concerned. And calling it walking was a stretch. Really it was an awkward shuffle where no matter how good a rhythm you built up, you still have times where you're about to face-plant on the ground.

The cops had recuffed them in the parking lot at gunpoint then prodded them to move. It was confusing enough to walk with chains giving you barely enough room to move your foot an inch ahead, never mind also being attached to two other people who are in the same mess and have impatient, unrealistic cops ordering you to move faster.

How about not happening? They'd get there when they get there.

Two gorillas of policeman boxed them in the narrow station halls, decked out and armed.

The station was pretty run of the mill for small towns, Dean and Sam had seen plenty while on jobs. Dean stopped them in front of the viewing gallery that had gathered in the front office. A heavy Sheriff, a lean Deputy and a mousey assistant stared at the trio like a kid when they see their first tiger at the zoo. And then there was that dickbag Victor Henriksen, calculating and smug as always.

"Why all the sourpusses?" Dean smiled. Sam ignored him, choosing instead to take in the place, mind working overtime. Sam's gaze fall on the only woman in the place, a sweet, tiny thing named Nancy.

She had barely met his eyes before breaking away and gathered a string of rosemary like a child would do with a teddy bear when there was a monster in the closet. Sam's eye twitched.

"I'll show you to the cells," one of their cops said. Grabbing Dean's elbow and jerking him forward, forgetting his captive couldn't walk normal and almost causing him to tip over.

"Hey, hey. Watch the merchandise," Dean protested. "And what lovely merchandise it is too," Saphira gushed behind him with a droll roll of her eyes.

Nancy's eyes followed them as they walked, and Dean noticed the attention. "We're not the ones you should be scared of, Nancy."

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Problem locked up for the hour Victor made an update call to his boss.

"It's me," he greeted. "Steven in?"

"He's in a meeting," the voice answered. "Well, get him out of the meeting."

"Groves."

"I got them," Victor crooned.

"Well, I'll be damned. I was betting on your headstone being 'couldn't catch the Winchester boys'."

"There was a slight hiccup; they had a girl with them. She didn't look like much, local PD and I took her for a new vic but when we were hauling them away she rammed a cop to go with them," he cautioned.

"We thinking she's a new accomplish?" Steven questioned. "Not sure, haven't gotten a solid lead on her yet. But they'll be at the Supermax by morning."

"How?"

"Armored bus loaded with men."

"A bus? Are you trying to give me another ulcer?" Steven criticized. "Look, we're taking every precaution-"

"Like the last time and the time before that? Vic, you just said this new girl was a wild card, meaning we have lighter fluid mixing with an already lit flame. Screw that, I'm sending a chopper."

"Whatever you think is best," he acknowledged.

"Damn right and I'll be on it. Can't take you losing them again. They've been a primary thorn in my ass for months. Now they're playing house. So Vic?"

"Yeah."

"Glue you eyeballs to them till I get there," he commands then hung up.

"Chopper's on the way." He informed the sheriff as he passed by.

"We don't have a helicopter pad," he responded. "Then clear the damn parking lot," he snapped. Turning away from a taken aback sheriff, and making his way to the holding cells.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Entering their eight by ten cell for the night, chains rattling behind them like Marley's ghost, the door slammed shut behind them as they packed in.

Dean began to wander over to the window while at the same time Sam went to peer after the guards, the shortening of the chain going unnoticed by the two but not Saphira.

"Uhm-" she began to warn but it was too late. "Uhh!" cries of surprise and frustration sounded from both sides of the cell.

Dean caught himself on the brick wall, Sam narrowly avoided smacking the bars with his head, and Saphira had to do a frantic one armed windmill to avoid falling on her ass.

"Dean, come on," Sam criticized.

"All right, all right. Sit?"

Sitting down while chained to each other proved to be harder than they thought.

It ended with Sam flat on his back on the bed, Saphira back to front with Sam and face to face with Dean, sandwiched between twin masses of hard hunter muscle.

"I knew it was only a matter of time before you got me between you two. I just didn't think the first time would feature handcuffs and be in a jail cell, but kudos on the enthusiasm," she sighed, deadpanned. "Ha-ha. Shut up," Dean answered dryly, pushing off of them. "Yes sir."

Finally they settled down side by side by side on the springy flat mattress.

"You know, I've known you two for about one week, seven hours, and thirty-" she broke off to grab Dean's hands closer to look at his watch, which the police didn't remove. "-six minutes, and you've already gotten me arrested by the FBI and got into a compromising position. Man, you boys are pros at this, ain't cha?"

"How we gonna Houdini out of this one?" Dean asked, ignoring the jab.

"Good question," Sam lamented.

Whatever space between them was filled up as Saphira let out a full body sigh, "Sorry, guys, I screwed up."

"You didn't," Dean denied. "That bitch Bela was just smarter."

"That doesn't really help, Dean. I'm older, I forgot how this dance goes. Now I can't talk us out of this."

"So just try and keep quiet," Sam suggested blandly.

She leveled him with a perfect mash-up look of 'what-the-hell-kind-of-idiot-are-you?' and a 'bitch-please'. "Were we looking at a different snake when we got cuffed? That agent looked like Christmas and his birthday came early. I almost expected him to have on a different pair of pants when we got here. Sam, I grew up watching my dad tear these kinds of guys to pieces. I don't have it in me to not knock them down. Hell, he starts gloating, Imma start throwing things."

"What could you throw in here?" Dean questioned.

"You'd be surprised at how resourceful I can get. I turn into MacGyver if the mood catches me right."

"It catching you now?"

"I might have forgotten the dance but the tune's still the same. I'll pick it back up," she assured. "It's doing it with a group that's the challenge."

"Good to know you won't leave us behind. And another thing I've been meaning to ask, why'd you get caught? You were cleared, you could have just run."

She turned sheepish and fiddled with her cuffs. "Yeah, I could have but I didn't want to."

What the- what inspired this kind of loyalty to them in a week. They had been horrible to her, and she was just gonna sit back and waved at her chance to leave as it passed by.

She chewed on her words. "You guys despite your unveiled hostility toward me, you've actually put a lot of trust in me. You've accepted everything I've said and never asked again if it was true. And I don't want this to end, so I didn't point that out to you. Hell, you guys don't even know my last name.

"Granted it's not a real one. When I was born you have the name your parents give you and you tack on wherever you were born. My birthplace is currently buried under 300 tons of sand and ocean near Greece. Since Western society dictates you need a last name when dealing with people, I choose one that was accurate; Fitt."

"So you're Miss Fitt." The play on made Dean smile. The name was ironically a 'perfect fit' for her seeing as Dean couldn't for the life of him figure what side he should put her on. Saphira didn't think it was funny as he did though if the continued dejected look on her face was any sign.

"You know what misfit means? It means a person who doesn't belong anywhere. And I don't. I lose every niche I carved out for myself and had pretty much given up on the masochist habit. Or I did until six months from now when I pulled Sam out of the bayou. For whatever reason, I feel the need to try again; being a part of something, whether the end stands to hurt me or not, the time being there is the best I've ever known.

"And it's not that much of a chore when you two lose your bristles, you're great to be around. Crazy as it sounds with all the places I've been to if the one place for me is between a pair of guns, well, it's nicer then what I thought I'd get this long down the line."

How much time had changed for them in the last seven months? Hell, every week brought on its own soul breaker and she had done this for thousands, if not millions of them. Watching as time took the things, places, and people she cared about.

She saw them as kindred broken spirits and gravitated toward them. In a world of people ready and eager to bury their heads in the sand about the things that lurked in the dark, they were misfits themselves, and misfits among other misfits to add salt to a wound.

That was why Dean hadn't wanted her around at the beginning, he couldn't look at a version of himself every day, and he already avoided mirrors. Like him she had the air of someone who had grown up too fast in a world they didn't want to, but did the best they could because they had to. It was also why Sam liked her because she wanted to have normality but it never panned out the way either wanted, so they compromised till they could believe that they wanted the warped version they had and forget the rest.

She was lonely, they got that the second she admitted to having no friends but now they understood, she was in as much, if not more, constant pain as them. She tried till time taught her to not care anymore than enough time past where she needed to try again or go mad. This time she got them.

"That's all good but one would think this far down the line you'd remember how to avoid getting cuffed," Dean countered blandly. From the corner of his eye, he saw her dour look lift a little.

"I plead coma, when the adrenaline kicks in though you'll be picking pieces of you jaw off the floor," she challenged.

A manageable silence fall over them, it wasn't comfortable given the situation but it wasn't as awful as it could have been. Boredom began to creep in. Sam had kicked himself back in a reclining position, stretching his legs out in front, while Dean planted his elbows on his knees still trying to work out an escape. Saphira had laid her head on Dean's shoulder, which he didn't mind at all, and played with her cuffs.

Finally, the crack of the door announced the arrival for one douche. The way he strutted up, jeez Saphira wasn't kidding about the change of pants.

"You know what I'm trying to decide?" he drawled.

"I don't know. What? Whether Cialis will help you with your little condition?" Dean considered.

"What to have for dinner tonight. Steal or lobster, what the hell, surf and turf. I got a lot to celebrate. I mean, after all, seeing you two in chains."

"You kinky son of a bitch. We don't swing that way," he playfully denied. "Too bad," Saphira sighed. "We get him in here we can cover the whole spread of porn. Well, all except for BBC, big black…" she trailed off with a pointed smirk.

"Now that's funny. You know you were quite the shock tonight. First, you showing up at all, then we couldn't find a record of you anywhere. It's like you don't even exist."

"Aw crap, did I go invisible again?" She patted herself down. "You see me right?"

Dean took her arm and gave it a mock shake. "She feels pretty real to me. Besides, you know I wouldn't bust out the melted butter just yet. Couldn't catch us at the bank, couldn't keep us in jail," he taunted. Weird how the people chained up were winning in the conversion.

"You're right. I screwed up. I underestimated you. I didn't count on you being that smart, but now I'm ready."

"That macho attitude go so well with your ex's?" Saphira chimed in. The swagger he'd managed to build up was knocked down again. "You get off cuffing us way too much to be getting off anywhere else in your life."

"Not bad, you'd make a good cop," he confessed.

"Wish I could tell you the same."

"I caught you," he retorted.

Snorting, she exclaimed, "Please, fictional police did more work to catch Jigsaw, and he had reverse bear traps and whole warehouses of horrors. Only thing these two have is a serve allergic reaction to feelings. They break out in a whole body rash, sweat buckets, and you can forget about going to the bathroom after them."

"You wanna know what types of guys you're cuffed to right now? Two delusional nutbags on a crusade, who somehow dup people into believing what they do is good."

"I'm cuffed to the MacManus brothers. Sweet!" she cried, elated.

"You've seen the Boondock Saints?" Dean asked.

"Hell yeah." Her voice turned into a flawless Irish brogue. "'You know, on TV you always got that guy that jumps over the sofa.'"

"'And then you got to shot them for ten fucking minutes, too.'" Dean answered in his best attempt of an accent. Grinning like a loon. "We're good."

"Yes, we are!"

"People!" Henriksen snapped.

"Yes, Greenly." Saphira responded eagerly, sending Dean into a fit of laughter.

"Glad to know you think a couple guys who dig up graves and mutilate people is funny."

"I don't see FBI arresting archeologists for doing the same. Going after Dr. Jones next?" she asked with a smirk.

"Forget whatever you think you got figured out about us, we got a new ace that changes the game. So, ready to lose us again?" Dean ventured.

"Ready like a court order to keep you in a Supermax prison in Nevada till trail. Ready like isolation in a soundproof, windowless cell, so that between you and me… probably unconstitutional."

It was like the confidence drained out the room. They had pissed him off, pushed too many buttons. "How's that for ready?"

Quiet answered for them. Dean actually showed his fear by letting out a soft sniff and wiped his mouth to hide his worried frown. "Take a good look at Sam, you two will never see each other again."

Saphira felt Sam stiffened beside her. After the Groundhog Day from Hell, having this new nightmare thrown in his face by this ass was a slap in the face, punch the gut, kick in the balls. And Dean wasn't as okay with his oncoming death as he acted.

"Yo badge bunny, if you like the current arrangement of your face I suggest you shut up," she warned. The boys dusted off all kinds of protective instincts in her. She hadn't had this much for herself in a long time, now when they were finally warming up to her this happened.

"Don't think I can't put you in a co-ed jail; see how many think you're funny there. Aw, where's that smug smile guys? I want to see it."

Shaking his head, Dean replied, "You got the wrong guys."

"Oh, yean, I forgot. You fight monsters. Sorry Dean. Truth is your daddy brainwashed you with all that devil talk and no doubt touched you in a bad place."

That last one got Sam up; together they formed a wall of loathing at that arrogant dick.

"That's all. That's reality."

"Why don't you shut your mouth?" Dean seethed.

"Well guess what? Life sucks, get a helmet. Cause everybody's got a sob story, but not everyone becomes a killer."

"And not everyone gets off on sending people to prison either." Saphira's snipe was almost lost in the sound of a descending helicopter.

"And now I got three less to worry about." He looked at watch. "Mm, surf and turf time," he chuckled.

There was a whoosh followed by a tink and then a sharp "Ow!" came out of the agent's mouth. Saphira had somehow worked her shoe off and chucked it at him, hitting the hand that gripped the bar. "Wipe that look off your face, I got five more. By the end of tonight you're gonna let us walk out that door free and you'll be happy to do it."

Henriksen left, still full of pride at his catch but wary of her. Soon as he was gone she gave them a pat on their knees, "I'm working on it. I'll die before I let him be right." She looked like a stone sentinel that guarded old tombs.

They shuffled down the bed so Dean could retrieve her shoe then stayed standing, the inactivity after having a threat directed at not only his brother and friend but also at him made his skin itch. Locked in a cell; no weapons, no plan, with two people to look after while some blind douche judged them was like banshee wails in an acoustic room.

Dean couldn't take sitting down anymore and began pacing three feet in either direction or shifting the weight of his feet, anything to be active.

Then the door slide shut and a man in a sharp suit approached their cell with the same superior air that Henriksen had. He stopped in front of them and just stared at them. Dean sized him up with nothing making an impression.

"Sam and Dean Winchester," he greeted, "and who might this lovely lady be?"

Saphira, who had been having her own stare down with fourth brick up from the floor and sixth over from the cell door, turned to look at the latest numbskull and had to fight back the instinct to flinch. She might not be as powerful as she once was but she still maintained a few abilities. Like being able to see when someone was possessed. Seeing a demon for what Hell had turned them into. Festering corpses in Georgia heat looked better.

"Saphira Fitt," she hedged, keeping it normal. The man nodded, "I'm Deputy Director Steven Groves. This is a pleasure."

"Well, glad one of us feels that way," Dean replied mildly.

"I've been waiting a long time for you to come out of the woodwork."

With that it was as if the world flipped on its axis and three things happened at once.

There was a soft phft and white hot pain speared through Dean's left shoulder. The shock knocked him off his feet and he fell back on the bed with the incredulous thought, _that sonofabitch shot me!_ , going through his head.

Sam saw Dean's blood spray the wall and lunged at the only person that could have caused it and struggled to aim anymore shots away from his brother and Saphira.

Saphira yelped in concern and fright as Dean's blood splashed on her then huddled over Dean acting as a shield from further bullets. "Christo. Christo. Christo!" she shouted with each shot that embedded itself into the wall around them. The last she felt the rip the air by her head.

Groves' head violently jerked from side to side, eyes flashing black.

Demon, Sam realized, and then launched into the Rituale Romana. Something he had memorized during the time loop, one of the few good things to come out of it. The body spasmed like a seizure, raspy hisses escaping its mouth. When he paused for a breath the demon turned and looked right at Sam, making him choke on the next line.

"Sorry. I've gotta cut this short. It's gonna be a long night, fellas."

Saphira leaned back to let Dean sit up, clutching his shoulder, each eyeing the demon waiting for his next move.

The head tilted back and black smoke spewed from its mouth with a loud scream and escaped out an air vent. The lifeless body flopped to the ground, leaving the remaining three a little shaken at the unexpected event.

"Sam, drop it," Saphira ordered, voice cold as a glacier, her eyes narrowed on the stolen gun in his hands. Sam dropped it out of the cell just as the whole building of cops poured in with their guns drawn, attracted by the raucous.

"Step away from the bars," ordered the sheriff.

"Wait. Okay, wait," Sam pleaded. "They shot him!" the deputy accused.

"We didn't shot him," Sam denied vehemently, "Okay, we didn't shot anyone."

"He shot me!" Dean complained, still holding his shoulder, blood forming thin lines down his fingers.

"Get in your knees, NOW!" Henriksen ordered.

"Okay, okay, okay. Don't shot. Please. Look. We didn't shot him. There's no blood. We did not kill him. Go ahead. Check him," Sam explained calm and firm, persuading, the voice he would have used in a courtroom had he made it there.

Henriksen nodded to the other agent to go ahead. "Vic, there's no bullet wound," he confirmed.

"He's probably been dead for months," Dean guessed. A quiet, bitter moan of pain slipped passed his lips. Saphira turned toward him, ready to help.

"Hey!" Henriksen warned gun pointed steady at her. She gave him a look that was one small almost non-existent notch before feral. "Either shoot me or shut the hell up," she growled, and then turned her back on his and everyone's guns to press her hand against the back of Dean's wound.

"What did you do to him?" Henriksen demanded, trying to save face after being ignored at gunpoint.

"Nothing," Saphira denied at the same time Dean said, "We didn't do anything."

"Talk or I shoot."

"You won't believe us."

Sam's eyes darted back and forth weighing whether or not he should just tell the truth. "He was possessed."

He said it honestly and sincere with an open face to match. Anyone looking at him would know he was telling the truth, except for the one who would neither admit defeat nor care. If it didn't match what image was already drawn then it wasn't true.

"Possessed? Right," Henriksen sneered.

She hadn't wanted to take the last bit of balls his ex's left him but that sneer made that sympathy fly out the window. "Look at him; he's as gray as ash and ice cold. Have your coroner cut him open and he'll tell you he died of a stroke _and_ a heart attack months ago, something we sure as hell couldn't do from in her in the least two minutes. Get it through your tiny human head, you absolute _imbecile_ , that right now we are not the ones you should be threatening!" Saphira ranted fiercely.

Her outburst stunned everyone but Henriksen, who was not impressed anymore, he was done listening. "Fire up the chopper. We're taking them out of here now."

"Yeah! Do that!" Dean sarcastically encouraged.

"Bill?" the other agent talked into the walkie. Only static answered him. "Bill, are you there?" Again nothing but static. He looked to Henriksen who nodded him off. Two minutes later Henriksen's own walkie crackled to life. The agent's voice coming through, shaky but clear, "They're dead. I think they're all dead."

 _ **BOOM!**_

The explosion rattled the building like an earthquake. Panic set in for the trio in the cell, they were in way over their heads. They weren't dangerous to those outside and now the ones outside weren't the worse things after them.

"What the hell was that? Reidy? Reidy?!" Henriksen yelled into his walkie. "Come in, Reidy? Reidy?"

A muffled scream came from outside and cut off as suddenly as it came. The sheriff and deputy looked terrified and sprinted out of the cells and to the office. Henriksen followed after them, but not before sending them one last threatening glare.

Once they were alone, Saphira and Sam huddled around Dean checking his wound.

"Knock it off, it's just a flesh wound," Dean dismissed.

"Dean, I can see Sam through this thing," Saphira scoffed. "Hi Sam," she sang.

"You need to calm down-" Dean groused before cutting himself off.

"Don't tell me to be calm, target practice. I'm locked in a cell, my friend has been shot, there are explosions in the parking lot and Captain Dickwad's acting as his name implies. There is no 'calming down'," she hissed, waving her hands around to emphasize her words.

"We need to put pressure on that," Sam fussed. "Thanks for the diagnosis Doctor Obvious. One problem; no rag," Dean groused hand clamped over his shoulder. Blinking the black spots out of his eyes. Man, this hurt like a _bitch._

Sam was biting back a retort when the sound of shredding fabric sounded through the cell.

Saphira had grabbed the hem of her one size too big T-shirt and was ripping it off, luckily she was wearing a purple tank underneath or it would have gotten more awkward then it needed to. The sleeves, which hadn't come off because of the cuffs, soon followed a similar fate as the rest of the shirt.

"Might get your jail fantasy quicker if you keep that up," Dean smirked. "I can hear the penthouse forum letter now," she fired back without missing a beat. Folding the pieces together, giving one to Sam, and each pressing it on his shoulder.

"Whoa." He heard Sam breath then he saw Saphira's arms. In the whole time they had been with her she had always worn long sleeves. Now they saw what she hid under them.

It was the most intricate and gorgeous tattoo either of them had ever seen. Spanning the full length of both her arms, from wrist to shoulder blade were wings. It wasn't that they were greatly detailed; more of a basic outline of each feather, but the way the ink moved on her skin, it was amazing and lifelike. The colors were simple; the tips of every feather were a lilac fading into a rich cream and then to a gentle gold round the afterfeathers and downy barbs.

"Damn girl, nice ink," Dean praised. Smiling she said, "Thanks, got it when I met Dad. It was supposed to mark a new life."

"Did it?"

"Yeah, many times it seems. I don't think he hit anything major, but we gotta stem the bleeding or you're gonna pass out. Fact, let's sit down."

The boys sat on the edge while Saphira crammed herself between them and the wall.

Then the lights went out.

"Oh, that's not good." Dean announced.

"Really? Because I always thought that the lights going out after an explosion with the warning 'they're all dead' was a good thing. Thanks for clearing that up for me, Dean. Damn, you're really bleeding." Pulling the wad of shirt back, blood soaked through. "Sam, get the toilet paper will ya."

"Toilet paper?" Dean asked incredulous, but was ignored. Damn now he had two mother hens.

As they sandwiched the wound Dean grunted at the pressure. "Alright don't be such a wuss," Sam commented. "If you're real good, when we get out, I'll buy you pie," Saphira promised.

"What's the plan?" They jumped at the sudden return of Agent McDouchey. "Kill everyone in the station, bust you out?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean wondered. "I'm talking about your psycho friends. I'm talking about a blood bath."

"Okay, I promise you-whoever is out there? They're not here to help us," he informed. Quite the opposite.

"Look you got to believe us. Everyone here is in terrible danger," Sam warned.

"You think?"

"Why don't you let us out of here so we can save your asses?" Dean demanded.

"From what?"

They looked to different corners of the cell, each thinking the other might answer and if one did they couldn't look with a straight face. But no one did and they didn't have too.

"You gonna say demons?" Henriksen asked then shook his gun, pointed at the ceiling, for emphasis. "Don't you dare say 'demons'. Let me tell you something you should be a lot more scared of me." Having given his warning he left as quickly as he showed up.

"How's the shoulder?" Sam inquired, hoping to defuse the tension.

Dean pulled the pad away and looked at it in disgust. "It's awesome," Dean replied with biting sarcasm. "I'll live. You know, if we get out of here alive. You got a plan yet?" that last one directed at Saphira.

"Had one, then demons came in and screwed it up with their bullets and explosions. So now I'm remodeling."

Sam hummed in acknowledgement, and then bent down to check Dean, who grimaced in pain. Saphira reached out and soothed small circles in the skin over his pulse to distract him from it. Then he saw something move in the darkness. He squinted in the lack of light at Nancy hugging the corner.

"Hey," he gestured to Sam to get him to look. All turned to face her.

"Hey," Sam greeted. Nancy shied away from all the attention.

"Hey, uh, please. Please. We need your help. It's…its Nancy right?" She continued to stare at him with her big doe eyes.

"Nancy, my…my brothers been shot. He's…he's bleeding really bad. You think maybe you can get us a towel? Please? Just one clean towel?"

She looked reluctant to move, either to run or help them.

"Look. Look at us. We're not bad guys, I swear." Dean tried to help his brother's point by smiling. Saphira gave a small upturn. Nancy flitted away.

Sam sighed in defeat. "Nice try," Dean comforted. Both turned away, while Saphira stayed put. The small upturn became a warm smile. Sam turned and saw Nancy had come back, with a towel.

"Thank you," Sam whispered, grateful.

Nancy gave him a shaky smile and inched closer. "It's okay," he calmed, but his chains rattled too loud and she stepped back.

"You want me to come get it?" Saphira offered, not noticing Sam face become guarded.

Nancy gave a hesitant nod. "I know he looks big but he's a cuddler, I promise," Saphira joked. She tripped and caught herself on the bars, Nancy moved closer in concern. Saphira huffed at her chains. "Sorry."

Nancy put the towel through the bars. Taking it Saphira gave her another smile, "Thank you." Nancy just scampered off.

"Here you go," she handed the towel to Dean, who pressed it to his ruined shirt.

"Should have let me take it," Sam stated stiffly. "What the hell?" Dean asked. "I wanted to see if I could get her rosemary," he explained.

"You mean this?" she asked holding the string up. "You didn't really trip did you?" Dean asked.

"Hell no," she swaggered. Dean chuckled, feeling the tide turn. "What are we going to use?" Sam questioned. Saphira gestured to the toilet. "Think that'll work? Seems counteractive."

"Hey, if it can work on a soda it can work for this," Saphira informed them. "A soda?" Dean asked mystified. "Wine and beer works too, but I'd stick with the jilted lovers drink toss. They drink a blessed beer you better be ready to mop up afterwards."

"Gross." Dean and Sam shuddered in unison.

"Hey, I have a question."

"Shoot," Saphira prompted. "You knew Groves was possessed before his eyes flashed."

"That's not a question," she pointed out, "But yeah, I did. One of the perks of being my own brand of freak. I can see the human they're wearing and their smoky face coiled around it like a mask. I haven't dealt with any demons in a while but when I did they didn't like when you could see them."

"But you could tell if another came here, right?"

"Oh definitely."

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Waiting for something to happen when you have a plan is worse than waiting around with no plan. Because with no plan it can only improve, but with a plan you run the risk of it messing up and wasting time that could prepare you to stand off when you had no plan. And they still had no idea what else was gonna get the urge to visit them in their cell.

"We're like sitting ducks in here," Sam grumbled.

"Yeah, I know. Would it kill these cops to BRING US A SNACK?!" Dean shouted.

"How many you figure are out there?"

"I don't know."

"However many they are, they could be possessing anyone. Anyone could just walk right in."

"It's kind of wild, right? I mean it's like they're coming for us. They've never done that before." Dean grinned as a thought occured to him. "It's like we got a contract on us. Think it's because we're so awesome? I think it's 'cause we're so awesome."

Sam gave him a serious and unamused look, and Dean dimmed a bit. "Oh, let him have his fun," Saphira chided nudging him in the side.

The sheriff appeared in the doorway, walking with purpose to their cell, keys in hand.

"Well, howdy, there, sheriff," Dean greeted with a Southern twang.

The sheriff opened the door as silently as he walked in; giving them a meaningful look making them feel uneasy.

"Uh, sheriff?" Sam asked, discreetly looking to Saphira. But she too looked curious at whatever the sheriff was doing. Whatever it was, he wasn't possessed.

"It's time to go, boys, ma'am," the sheriff stated. He took a step toward them and they took two steps away from him. Demon or not they weren't leaving with him.

"Uh... you know what? We're –we're just comfy right here. But thank you," Dean denied, very cordial for him.

Suddenly Henriksen appeared over the sheriff's shoulder. Saphira tugged the backs of their shirts urgently, at her signal they subtlety shifted into a fighting position.

"What do you think you're doing?" demanded Henriksen.

"We're not going to sit around here and wait to die. We're going to make a run for it."

"It's safer here," Henriksen insisted.

"There's a SWAT facility in Boulder." Henriksen came in the cell to better continue his tennis match with the sheriff.

"We're not going anywhere."

"The hell we're not." Famous last words of a dead man.

Calmly, Henriksen pulled his gun on the sheriff and shot him point blank in the head. Before the blood even had a chance to start running down the wall it splashed on, the trio tackled Henriksen.

Dean grappled the gun away while Sam muscled and shoulder him in the direction of the toilet. Saphira unholstered the sheriff's gun, her aversion to firearms getting shelved for the hour.

Sam plunged Henriksen's head in the toilet of blessed water and began the rite. The body flayed around, trying to knock Sam off of him. The deputy charged in with a rifle. Dean and Saphira pointed their guns standing shoulder to shoulder.

"Stay back," Dean ordered.

Behind them Henriksen head managed to free itself from the bowl, screaming in agony. Sam quickly shoved his head back in and continued.

"Sam, hurry up," Dean barked as Nancy joined in. It was getting way too crowded in here.

The head came out again only this time instead of screaming it delivered a warning. "It's too late. I already called them. They're already coming." Filing that away for later and returning to the task at hand, Sam plunged him in one last time and finished the rite.

Black smoke roared out of his mouth and out an air vent. Henriksen fell to the floor as Sam leaned against the wall breathing heavily.

"Is he…is he dead?" Nancy asked timidly. As if on cue Henriksen came to with a cough.

"Henriksen! Hey. Is that you in there?" Sam questioned.

He didn't answer, just stared around shell-shocked, but worked himself off the floor and onto the bed.

"I…I shot the sheriff," he murmured dazed.

"But you didn't shot the deputy," Dean and Saphira both replied with a smile in unison then turned their grins to each other while Sam glared a 'really?' look at them. It was great they were finally getting along, but time and place.

"Five minutes ago I was fine and then," Henriksen fumbled, trying to make sense of it all.

"Let me guess. Some nasty black smoke jammed itself down your throat?" Dean asked. "You were possessed," Sam informed him.

"Possessed, like…possessed?"

"Is there any other kind?" Saphira sniped.

"That's what it feels like. Now you know," Sam replied snidely. "I owe you the biggest 'I told you so' ever," Dean remarked handing his gun back. In taking it he silently admitted to believing them at last.

"Officer Amici," he called. The deputy came forward. "Keys."

Henriksen was having a hard time with the chains; they had gotten all tangled up with all the moving around. "You know what, here." Saphira stepped away and out of her cuffs with no key. "Could you have gotten out at any time?" Dean vented.

"Not at any time, the right one," she explained calmly. With one less person in the way the chains soon clattered to the ground.

"All right, so how do we survive?"

"We protect ourselves. To start, we need a map of building and some paint, spray, from a can, anything. We need to fortify this place," Dean instructed.

"And a first aid kit while you're at it," Saphira put in.

"We can worry about that later." Dean didn't like having attention being drawn on him, preferring to blend in the background made for easier hunts. Plus, it wasn't even hurting that much anymore, the black spots had stopped popping in front of him and the pain went from son-of-a-bitch to just shit.

"Or," she began, grabbing his arm with the strength of a vice, "we can worry about it now and avoid telling how you got shot to the very nice, very _male_ doctor I'll drag you to. Which is it?"

There was no arguing with her but that didn't stop him from glaring at her for winning. "And a kit too. Does it have to be a male one?"

"Yeah, you'll just drool with a female one and that's not a punishment," she smiled.

Dean planted himself in the front office with his maps, while Saphira shoed everyone out for some semblance of privacy. "Alright handsome, shirt off," she leered.

"It's just the shoulder, role it up." Taking off his jacket was bad enough. With a battle looming over head he was not going in with his shirt off, this wasn't a romance novel.

Despite her nonchalance she was pretty good with the med stuff; cleaned the gore off, stiches were good and tight, packed the wound with just the right amount gauze to protect the wound but not hinder movement. Now if only she would stop humming 'It's Raining Men' while she did it.

"Got get my hands on both of you in a month. Life's good," she hummed. "Both your boys have been shot you know," Dean pointed out.

"Why must you ruin it with technicalities?" she pouted.

While cleaning up, Henriksen and the deputy Phil came in from the back armed with, well, arms.

"Well, that's nice. It's not gonna do much good," he informed. "We got an arsenal here," Phil defended.

"You don't poke a bear with a BB gun. That's just gonna make them mad."

"What do you need?" Henriksen asked. "Salt. Lots and lots of salts."

"Salt?" Phil asked dumbfounded. "What is there an echo in here?"

"There's road salt in the storeroom," Nancy piped up. "Perfect. Perfect. We need salt at every window and every door."

They went off.

"How you holdin' up Nancy?" Dean asked kindly.

"Okay," she answered instantly. "When I was little I would come home from church and start to talk about the devil. And my parents would tell me to stop being so literal. I guess I showed them, huh?" The three exchanged grins.

Phil returned with huge bags of salt.

"Hey, where's my car?" Dean asked. "Impound lot out back."

"Okay."

"Wait, you're not going out there?" He made it sound like in spite of having a FBI agent drop dead, having every other cop get blown up in the parking lot and learning demons were real and having his boss shot this was the craziest thing he'd had happen.

"Yeah, I got to get something out of my trunk."

He hefted himself off and walked to the backdoor, keeping his arm as immobile as he could. A jangle of keys sounded next to his ear. Saphira held up the keys to his car and the impound lock. "Thanks." He grabbed the end but she wouldn't let go. "I'm just going to my car, I don't need back up."

"This morning we were just gonna get your gun back, look how that went."

"You helped get us here," he groused. He didn't mean to but he did not like people hovering over him, he had already let her patch him up.

"And how am to redeem myself if I don't try harder?" She held the door open, an eyebrow rising to ask, "Well?"

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Nothing jumped out to kill them as they reached the lot. Baby was real easy to spot in all the small-town cars. The lull in things that could go wrong did not make them drop their guard. Eyes darted around as Dean opened the trunk, stuffing in a bag all essentials for fighting demons for amateur and professional alike.

Saphira leaned in the back grabbing her bag, slinging it over her chest and joining him at the trunk. The wind picked up a bit but Dean opted to ignore it, bigger issues at hand and all. Saphira, however, pulled her head out of the trunk to look around. A crackle sound began to play in with the whispering wind.

"Dean." Saphira sounded wary. He look over the hood at the light, flickering and buzzing. To anyone else it was chalked up to faulty wires but they weren't anyone else, it meant trouble. Ducking back under Dean grabbed a bag of protection charms. Behind them came a long groan. A wave of demon smoke broke through the tree line surrounding them. Shit.

Saphira grabbed the arsenal bag and took off in a dead sprint for the door, as Dean grabbed a sawed off, slamming the trunk closed and followed just a fast behind her.

Inside Sam was finishing up a devil's trap while the others layered the building in salt. Sam jerked when Saphira rammed into the door carrying the duffel bag from the trunk and didn't stop till she hit a desk. Dean followed closely after, shouting "They're coming! Hurry!"

In the distance Nancy shrieked in terror. They all convened in the front office, Dean tossed Sam his sawed off with practice ease, and then turned to Saphira to get the bag. A blade held in her hand gleamed in the light, so wicked sharp it could cut a hole in the air.

The demon wave blanketed the building completely. It boomed and rattled as the disembodied demons hit the walls, but the wards held strong. Nancy trembled like a leaf in the wind in the dark. Saphira reached out with her empty hand and gripped hers grounding her in the nightmare as best anyone could. Soon the blanket lifted and no repressions came. It was calm. Dean exchanged a look with Sam and then Saphira, they all know it wasn't over it was just starting. They would come back…and stronger.

"Everybody okay?" Sam asked. "Define okay." Henriksen quipped. Cause really what was anything about this night okay?

Saphira sighed letting out the tension built up and settled onto a desk snatching a bag of Cheetos she'd found. No doubt they had belonged to one of the dead guards outside, maybe even the one she'd made taste a three month old donut with that punch. But in her experience it took more meaningful things to offend the dead, but if the guy did come back she would apologize. Till then. She popped one in her mouth then offered the bag to Dean, remembering he'd asked for a snack earlier, as he sorted out the bag they brought in.

He took a few to quickly munch on before getting down to business.

"All right everybody needs to put these on," he instructed passing out the necklaces. "They'll keep you from being possessed."

"What about you and Sam?" Nancy fretted.

They pulled down their shirt collars to show their matching anti-possession tattoos over their hearts. Saphira let out a wolf whistle. "Don't stop now."

"Now is not a good time," Sam informed.

"We're surrounded by demons, could be dead in an hour, the time to soak up hotness is dwindling."

"I'd be more worried about you. We only had three charms."

"Oh, I got that covered." She hopped off the desk and pulled up the hem of her tank showing off her anti-possession tramp stamp.

She _literally_ has her ass covered, Dean laughed mentally.

"It's smart. How long you had those?" Henriksen questioned.

"Not long enough," Sam muttered. It had been his idea to get them, after he had been possessed by a vicious demon named Meg. Before she had been exorcised she had threatened to kill their friend and follow hunter Jo, killed another hunter just to screw with him, and beat the shit out of his brother. The whole mess had taken huge chunks away from his self-confidence, which was never that much to begin with. To avoid further setbacks he had talked his brother into going for it, it was a very airtight insurance in their line of work.

With everything as warded as they could get, there wasn't much to do till the next wave came so they all started to mill about.

Nancy fluttered about, her hands doing an imitation of a hummingbird with the nervous energy she had stored up. Straightening up some files she glanced out the front window and saw a crowd gathering in the still smoldering parking lot.

"Hey, that's Jenna Rubner." A friend from church she was supposed to meet that night before all the demons. She felt Sam come up from behind her to look out. "That's not Jenna anymore," he denied. Looking at her she realized her eyes were completely black. "Is that where all that black demon smoke went?"

"Looks like."

So this was their next plan, to attack wearing innocent people's faces. Playing off the Winchesters drive to save people and the others lack of senseless bloodlust. It was gonna be a long night alright.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N

In the ex-sheriff's office Dean, Saphira and Henriksen were prepping the guns for whatever was brave enough to break in.

With Henriksen the guilt of killing the sheriff was being to creep in even though it hadn't really been him that pulled the trigger. Despite the fact the guy had complicated his life even more than it already was; Dean couldn't help feeling sympathy for him. He knew, all too well, the feeling of failing, the self-loathing that came afterwards. The kind that cut deep, that stung long after it healed.

The agent favored his usual method of working through it by focusing solely on the task in front of him and ignoring it. "Shotgun shells full of salt." He mused aloud, tossing one in the air.

"Whatever works," Dean shrugged. Questioning most things about this job had flown out the window long ago. "You gonna gear up this time?" he asked Saphira, filling guns on the other end of the couch.

"If I have to, but I gotta tell ya, my preferred weapon is a blade; doesn't matter what kind or who for."

"They don't work on demons." However, there was that blade Ruby carried, if he could get that and not die, he'd like to see what all those years had taught her.

"Dose it in holy water then jam it in their kidneys will distract them enough while you or Sam shoot them in the face. Nice double tap." Not a bad idea.

"Fighting off monsters with condiments and water." Henriksen dismissed taking off his tie. Dean let him; however he wanted to deal with the real reality of the world.

"So. Turns out demons are real." It would have been in offhanded comment if Henriksen weren't jamming ammunition into his own gun.

"FYI, ghosts are real too. So are werewolves, vampires, changelings, evil clowns that eat people."

"Okay, then," he replied idly, in an I'll-take-your-word-for-it tone. He'd believe in demons because he had been high jacked by one, the rest he still was skeptical of.

"If it makes you feel any better Bigfoot's a hoax," he smiled.

"It doesn't." Not amused in the slightest. "How many demons?"

"Total? No clue. A lot."

"Helpful," Saphira muttered, capping off the gun in her hands.

"You know what my job is?" Henriksen asked suddenly.

"You mean besides locking up the good guys? I have no idea," Dean answered, piling up the loaded guns.

"My job's boring, it's frustrating. You work three years for one break and then maybe you can save…a few people. Maybe." His tone bitter and resentful. "That's the pay off. I've been busting my ass for fifteen years to nail a handful of guys and all this while there's something off in the corner so big. So yeah... sign me up for that big frosty mug of wasting my damn life."

"You didn't know," Dean informed solemnly. "Now I do."

"To be fair, it's not much better when you do know. You can't stare into the center of a black hole for so long then glance away and have everything that you were still be intact. Given the time, this side of the world starts taking the things around you before taking pieces of you," Saphira said, eyes focused on a time long lost.

Not so long ago Dean had confessed that the things he would do to protect the people he cared for scared him. With her no matter how hard she fought she would still lose those to time and be here afterward. How many times had she gone through that till admitting defeat?

"You like them?" Henriksen inquired.

"Not completely," she denied with a smile. "Been retired till these two knocked on my door a week ago."

"You knocked on my car," Dean protested. "Details."

"What's out there? Can you guys beat it? Can you win?" Henriksen asked the gravity of the situation finally hitting him, a little fear rearing up before he could beat it back.

"Honestly? I think the world's gonna end bloody. But it doesn't mean we shouldn't fight. We do have choices. I choose to go down swinging," he said ruefully.

"Plus you got nothing to go home to but your brother and her." That unconscious jab hit him harder than the bullet. He didn't like having to think about what he'd lost for this job. What he'd failed to protect. Mom, parts of his dad, home, his childhood, Sam to college, Dad for good… _Sammy_.

Sometimes he woke up still feeling his baby brother's blood dripping off his hands, the dead weight resting on his shoulder. Now he only had the next job, his Baby, and Sam for three more months.

But he brought up a good point, he got Saphira. Bizarre, curious, happy Saphira. The mystery that shouldered her way into the backseat, whose past had more shadows then a blackout, but at the same time was enthusiastic and bubbly. She wasn't what they usually had for company, but maybe after years of angst and pent-up anger, a little vibrant could rock the ship they were going down in in their favor. Tip over in the shallow end as opposed to the jagged rocks area.

"Yeah," he agreed. From the corner of his eye, he saw Saphira smile at his acceptance. "What about you? Rocking the white picket fence?"

"Mm-mm. Empty apartment, string of angry ex-wives like she guessed. I'm right where you are." They shared a chuckle at an FBI agent having anything in common with the criminal he spent so long tracking down. The moment of previous enemies coming together was shuttered; well, a window was at least.

The muffled sound of glass breaking followed by the tingling of glass on the ground with a thud of something much heavier. Something had gotten in.

Snatching the loaded guns off the table they ran toward the sound. In one of the back rooms, a window had been smashed open, jagged shards still hanging in the frame, underneath that was a devil's trap, in it a blonde woman. An unfortunately very familiar, slightly bleeding with glass fragments in her hair, woman.

Sam's tall frame filled the doorway behind them, he knew the woman too.

"How do we kill her?" Henriksen asked gun steady on the demon. "We don't." Sam denied forcing the gun down.

"She's a demon," he argued. "Yeah, what the hell, man?" Saphira protested.

"She's here to help us." Saphira scoffed. A demon could help but only when 'persuaded' or when they were the ones raking in the rewards. Demons never did anything helpful for free, it wasn't in them to be generous.

Ruby stayed where she had landed, not that she had much of a choice, being stuck in the trap and all. Dean let out a sigh of exasperation, the things Sam picked up.

"Are you going to let me out?" Ruby asked a sprinkle of sincerity that was no doubt a load of crap.

Sam reached for a knife and Saphira restrained his hand. "She can talk just fine from there."

"Who the hell are you?" Niceness-over.

"Saphira, you?"

"The only one who helps Twindle-dee and Twindle-dum over there." Saphira was not impressed. "Ruby."

"That your actual name, name you like, or the name of that poor girl you're knocking around in?"

"We don't have time for this, encase you hadn't noticed you're surrounded."

The two glared so fiercely at each other it was a wonder they didn't ignite something.

Slowly Saphira let go of Sam, who in turn, hesitantly broke the trap. Ruby purposely stepped out, still eyeing Saphira. It was a silent battle for Alpha queen to which Ruby glanced away from first but re-asserted herself by talking causally to Sam.

"And they say chivalry is dead." Sam looked down, embarrassed and slightly ashamed. "Does anyone have a breath mint? Some guts splattered in my mouth while I was killing my way in here."

She breezed out of the room, the others moved to let her through, equally in awe and afraid of her. Saphira followed after her like a second shadow, eyes dark and full of suspicion. Her body coiled up like a spring. Her wing tattoos coupled with the steel in her gaze made her look like a bird of prey…and she had just found herself a mouse.

At the door she took Dean sawed-off from his grasp and left after Ruby. Dean would rather take his chances out there with a horde of demons then in here with whatever kind of catfight was brewing.

Dean looked at his brother, silently conveying that whatever happened next was on him for believing that pest's ploys. Sam had already reached the same conclusion about having two supernatural girls in the same room was worse then what was outside. Nothing to do about it now, he turned and fixed the salt line.

"How many are out there?" Dean quizzed, walking by Saphira he eased the gun out of her hands. She shouldn't be allowed combustible things right now.

"Thirty, at least. That's so far."

"Oh good. Thirty. Thirty hitmen all gunning for us. Who sent them?" Cause demons weren't this organized, not even for a kill.

Ruby cocked her head in Sam direction as he entered the room. "You didn't tell Dean?"

Dean's eyebrows threatened to merge with his hairline. "Oh, I'm surprised," she preened.

"Tell me what?" he demanded. This was another secret, he hated secrets. He'd had enough of them.

"There's a new up and comer. Real piped piper."

"Who is he?"

"Not he. Her," she corrected. "Her name's Lilith."

"Lilith?"

"And she really, really wants Sam intestines on a stick. Cause she sees him as competition."

"You knew about this?" Dean accused. Sam looked everywhere but at his brother, a sure sign of his guilt. "Well, gee, Sam. Is there anything else I should know about?!"

"I'd advise you to say it now," Saphira spoke up. "Keeping Lilith hidden is all kinds of stupid. You're allowed secrets, Sam, but Lilith should never be on the list. She is batshit to infinity. You get wind she's in town, you tell people that shit so we can haul ass out of there."

"You know her?" Dean asked.

"It's not like I have her number on speed dial, I just know her work. It's bloody and wasteful. She was the first demon ever created; all these years and power have left her seriously soft in the head. She plays games for the sole reason of breaking people down till they no longer amuse her. And when they're not fun anymore..." she snapped her fingers, "…you're dead. Everything is bent towards her enjoyment. What I don't get is why she is after Sam? You're good hunters, sure, but that's not competition."

Saphira didn't know anything about the last three years. About their mom, their dad, the demon blood, or the yellowed eyed demon's showdown of special children. She didn't have all her blanks filled in either, but then her blanks weren't the ones staging whole ambushes.

"How about the three of you talk about this later?" Ruby quipped. "We'll need the Colt."

You could see the tension visibly shift in the air. "Where's the Colt?"

"It got stolen," Sam answered. "I'm sorry. I must have blood in my ears. I thought I just heard you say that you were stupid enough to let the Colt get grabbed out of your thick, clumsy, idiotic hands."

Dean just stood there and watched his brother get verbally bitch slapped. Nothing he could say, they had fallen for Bela's charms like idiots.

"Fantastic. This is just peachy."

"Ruby," Sam tried.

"Shut up," she snapped. "Hey, lose the attitude, princess," Saphira ground out. "We lost it, we're sorry. We were trying to get it back today when we got landed in our buddy's mess. That's it, it happened, move on to plan B."

"There is no plan B," Ruby retorted. Saphira let out a bark of a laugh and it wasn't a nice one. "You say that, yet you have this…" She held up Ruby's knife, the only thing besides the Colt that could kill demons.

Ruby looked shocked, glancing down at the sheath on her hip to see it was, indeed, empty. So that trick worked on demons too.

"Give it back," Ruby hissed, lunging at her. Saphira sidestepped out of her way and then put some distance and a desk between them. "I know this blade. I stole it from a peddler to kill a few demons once, I returned it when my use for it was done, but it could still lend its help to the next in line." She addressed Dean this time. "Find the bastard with your contract, shove this in its black heart, and I'll be seeing you and Sam on a beach in Miami this summer."

"Not going to do you much good if you can't get out," Ruby digged. "You haven't seen me with a blade, darling," Saphira warned in return.

She certainly held it well. The way she grasped it, like an extension of her hand, Dean could see the huntress she had been. Strong, capable, witty, and resourceful, the prime of everything it stood for. It wasn't so much hunting that came like riding a bike to her, it was protecting others, and she had numbed that urge with common humanity's. And she had done that for a reason.

Dean wasn't sure she should give it up just for them. There was more than one way to die, he was learning. "Give it back," he murmured.

She gave him a questioning look. "Look, I don't doubt you'd be awesome with that thing, but there's thirty innocent people out there getting forced into this and they don't deserve to die with the scum." He could see she agreed with him but didn't want to give it back to her. "Come on, you can always steal it back."

"I don't steal, I borrow," she corrected. Nonetheless she tossed it onto the desk with a sigh. Ruby wasted no time snatching it back.

"Fine," she huffed in frustration. "Since I don't see that there's no other option. There's one other way I know how to get you out of here alive."

"What's that?" Dean inquired. "I know a spell."

"Great, a demon who was a witch, just f-ing brilliant," Saphira fumed quietly but loud enough to reach Dean at least. He didn't disagree, he _hated_ witches too.

"It'll vaporize every demon in a one-mile radius. Myself included. See you let the Colt out of your sight and now I have to die. So next time be more careful. How's that for a dying wish?"

"Should have gone to Disneyland," Saphira smirked. Ruby's nostrils flared in anger, hate pouring off her. Saphira merely tilted her head in a 'whatcha-gonna-to-do-bitch?' manner.

"Okay," Dean called out, breaking it up before it escalated. "What do we need to do?"

"Aww…you can't do anything. This spells very specific. It calls for a person of virtue." Everyone was so focused on Ruby they missed Saphira off to the side perk up, recognition playing across her face.

"I got virtue," Dean asserted.

She laughed at him like one does with a mentally challenged person that's stumbling through a task and doesn't give a damn about being a semblance of nice towards them. "Nice try. You're not a virgin."

"Nobody's a virgin," Dean laughed.

Behind him the deputy looked at Nancy, who flushed at the embarrassing and awkward situation. "No. No way. You're kidding me. You're-," he stuttered.

"What? It's a choice," she cried indigent. "So, y-you've never…not even once? I mean not even- Wow…" Mind officially blown.

"Really this shocks you?" Saphira asked. Yeah, in his mind this was odd for anyone over eighteen. "Dean there is a Virgin Mary figurine on her desk, two in fact, and she has no ring on. Mazel Tov, by the way. Not easy to maintain a steady rejection rate in this day and age."

Nancy smiled at the joke. "So, this spell? What can I do?"

She smiled all sweet and innocent at the demon, a picture perfect lamb to slaughter before the wolf. "You can hold still…while I cut your heart out of your chest."

"What?" she asked fear spiking back. Saphira moved in-between them, acting as a shield.

"What are you crazy?" Dean demanded. "I'm offering a solution," she protested all innocent like he was the one with the problem.

"You're offering to kill somebody."

"And what do you think is going to happen to this girl when the demons get in?" she challenged.

"We're gonna protect her," answered Henriksen. "That's what."

"Excuse me," Nancy ventured voice lost in her fear.

"Very noble," Ruby sneered.

"Ex-excuse me."

"You're all gonna die. Look. This is the only way."

"Yeah, yeah. There's no way that you're gonna-" Dean began before Nancy shouted over him.

"Would everyone please shut up?!" All attention was on her again. "All the people out there…will it save them?"

"It'll blow the demons out of their bodies. So if their bodies are okay…yeah."

"I'll do it."

"No, no." Dean gritted out in part with Henriksen's resounding "Hell no."

"All my friends are out there," Nancy exclaimed.

"We don't sacrifice people. We do that, we're no better than them."

"We don't have a choice," Ruby countered. "Yeah, well, your choice is not a choice," Dean stated.

Ruby should have learned by now talking to Dean head-on never got anywhere. "Sam, you know I'm right." She looked to Sam like she knew he'd agree with her dark and twisted plan. Sam said nothing.

Dean turned to his brother sure he'd get backup, but his smile dimmed at Sam's continued silence. "Sam? What the hell is going on? Sam, tell her." Still nothing. While he didn't openly agree to it he also didn't disagree to it, and Dean didn't like that at all. This was a slippery slope to go down, one that many disappeared on and it never ended well. Every minute Sam was near her, her claws dug deeper and deeper into him, and he didn't seem to notice or grasp the seriousness of it.

"It's my decision," Nancy announced. "Damn straight, cherry pie," Ruby leered.

"Stop! Stop! Nobody kill any virgins. Sam, I need to talk to you, you too Saph." Dean ordered, stomping off to a hallway.

Once out of earshot Dean rounded on Sam. "Please tell me you're not actually considering this. We're talking about holding down a girl and cutting out her heart."

"And we're talking about thirty people out there, Dean. Innocent people who all gonna die along with everyone in here," he responded.

"It doesn't mean that we throw away the rule book and stop acting like humans, I'm not gonna let that demon kill some nice, sweet, innocent girl, who hasn't even been laid. I mean, look, if that's how you want to win wars then I don't want to win." He vowed.

"Take it from the person here who has been in wars," Saphira muttered. "All it takes is one time to compromise your morals before everything starts dissolving. Once that happens it takes years to get back to you where you were and even then it never lets you go. Besides, there's a good chance even if we did the spell, we could still die."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"I know the spell she wants to use, Dispellere Vitium, it was real popular with witches during the Plague, which is where I'm guessing is where Blondie got issued her broomstick. The reason she needs a heart of virtue is to be a counterpoint to vice. Demons are nothing but vice, so it destroys them completely. But we are human, we can become them. So we do this, yes, we could kill all the demons, but it could also scramble us like eggs. Might as well gift-wrap ourselves for the next batch that comes sniffing."

"So, now what? What do we do now, Dean?" Sam asked. Dean finally saw the reason he was so gung-ho to go with what Ruby suggested.

He'd been losing so much for so long, now that he got it back he was about to lose it again. He was past thinking rationally and logically he was desperate for just one thing to work in his favor. He would do whatever he had to, to save what he couldn't live without. There was his little brother all tall and toned from hunting and all he could see was that chubby fussy thing that smiled up at him when he was held, the one that trusted him to patch him up when he was hurt, looked at him like he was Superman. Dean would do anything for that kid.

"I got a plan. I'm not saying it's a good one. I'm not even saying that it'll work. But it sure as hell beats killing a virgin."

"Okay, so what's the plan?"

"Open the doors, let them all in and we fight."

"Very Two Towers Aragorn," Saphira praised.

"We don't have enough weapons to hold them off. We'd have to break the traps to get them in and we don't have the room to make new ones. Plus I'm the only one that can recite the exorcism without reading it," Sam argued.

"So say it, and say it loud," Saphira said looking up at an intercom box. The whole build was plugged in. At that moment Dean actually thought his plan might work.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

"Got the equipment to work?" Dean asked Sam as he came out of the back room. "Yeah."

"So?"

"So, this is insane." he asserted.

"You win understatement of the year," Ruby sneered, still jilted as them rejecting her idea.

"Well, you win bitch of the century," Saphira grinned. "Look, I get it, you think-" Dean began to appease.

"I don't think…I know. It's not going to work. So long boys."

"So, you're just gonna leave?" Sam inquired. She whirled around. "Hey. I was gonna kill myself to help you win. I'm not gonna stand her and watch you lose."

"If you were going to die anyway, why not stay and fight?" Saphira questioned. "Because now that I don't have to, I'm not going to. No point in offering help if no one takes it."

"Maybe we'd take it if it wasn't stupid and actually genuine."

Ruby released a pent up sigh of frustration before turning to Sam. "And I'm disappointed because I tried. I really did, but clearly I bet on the wrong horse."

Sam gave no response.

"Do you mind letting me out?"

"Hey satanic Barbie, saving your skin's gonna be hard without this," Saphira taunted holding up her knife again. Damn girl was a klepto.

Ruby grabbed the handle and pulled in toward her but Saphira didn't let go; now they were in each other's faces. "Keep your paws off my stuff," Ruby growled.

"And you mine," Saphira returned. Although she didn't move forward she seemed to somehow get both larger and more intimidating until her presence filled the entire office and once again the demon bowed to her.

No sounds of a mauling came as they let her out, with that part done it was time to win a battle.

Dean, Sam and Henriksen stepped up to their perspective doors. Nancy and Phil had gone up to the roof for second part of the plan. And Saphira was waiting in the office set to pick off the strays.

"All set?" Dean shouted. "Yeah!" Sam called back. "Ready!" came Henriksen.

"Let's go this," he whispered to himself.

The trio scratched open their traps and broke the lines.

On Henriksen's side a demon swung out from the top of the door, kicking him back setting his gun off.

Dean's first demon came charging in, quickly getting shot down. The next followed the same way. Sam's barreled in like a rhino, the body was one to the cops that had arrested them at the hotel, and his throat was crackled with dried blood. Getting shot cause it to fly over the counter and land in a heap. While reloading another came in from the side and tackled him down.

Henriksen's demon grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him into the wall, making a sizable dent. He fumbled with the flask Dean had given him out of his pocket. "God I hope this works." With a splash the demon released him, howling in pain as his face steamed.

Sam push the demon off him then flipped his rifle and swung it like a bat across its face. That one down he looked up and saw he was being surrounded. With this many already in he hoped it was because Dean and Henriksen just couldn't clip them all and not because they couldn't stop them.

Flashes of sliver whizzed past him. Saphira was flitting around the office, never in one place for more than a second. Dodging, ducking and weaving her way through, making it look like a dance, throwing her little bundle of knives at the fleshy parts of the demons. The blades themselves didn't have much of an effect on the bodies but the holy water on them certainly had the demons going down shrieking in agony, their fingers blustering trying to remove them.

Back with Henriksen he grabbed his gun and backed up into the office, shooting anything that moved. Coming out of the hallway way he bumped into Dean, who was dealing with his own mess.

A demon got up behind Sam and wrapped his arms around his neck, jerking the air out of his lungs. Another ran at him from the front. He kicked him high in the collarbone then worked his gun out and hit the demon behind him in the gut. Once he was released he spun around and clubbed him across the face. And still they kept on coming.

Outside on the roof, Nancy and Phil watched the crowd thin out.

"When this is over, I'm going to have so much sex," Nancy vowed. She felt Phil's gaze one her. "But not with you. We better move," she announced as the lot emptied out.

Dean was getting swarmed. One particular demon kept coming at him with vengeance. He couldn't raise his gun to get a shot in, and was reduced to dodging the punches thrown at him. Sending the fists into windows, which shattered, sending shards of glass flying around his face. He could barely move away from the next one, making it go through the wall and not his skull.

Finally he managed to club down on his head only to have six more bring up the rear. One rounded the corner at his back; he turned and shot it down.

"Hey Dean." He heard Saphira call. He looked over a saw her playing some weird version of leap frog with a demon, her legs wrapped around its head causing them both the fall, the demon violently crushing to the ground and her rolling up and away without a scratch. "I'm out of knives. Can I break stuff?"

"Nothing lethal," he shouted over another shot.

"Gotcha." She grabbed the fist coming at her head then turned and arm barred the redhead she'd leapt over, and flung her into a pack converging on her back. Another bunch coming at her side, she did a tight backflip catching the leader in the chin with her foot sending him staggering back. Crouching down she knocked the feet out from under two demons then shot up and uppercut the fourth.

Sam was getting tossed around like a mosh pit. He worked the flask out of his pocket and through the water out in wide arches, trying to get as many demons as he could. Dean had the same idea and was dosing his own posse.

Then there was a lull in the fighting. The demons ceased their mindless rampage, all crouched and watching them. The redhead Saphira had wrestled with hopped over a desk and slowly approached them. Like a cat to a mouse.

She raised her uninjured hand and sent the three flying into the wall. Struggling did no good; they were stuck, the pressure beginning to still their breathing.

"Henriksen now!" Dean bellowed, hoping the agent was close enough to get to it.

Henriksen heard him over the sound of the butt of his gun cracking a demons jaw, and rushed into the room. Only to have another demon hop on his back. He knocked him off and a slammed down the play button on the type recorder.

Sam's voice filled the whole building, his calm and firm voice reciting the Rituale Romanum.

All the demons flinched in pain, as it continued they all began to shriek in desperation, flaying around as the rite took hold. Some rushed to the doors, only to find they wouldn't open.

Nancy and Phil had been outside relaying the salt lines, sealing them all in…except for one, who got out right before Nancy was able to finish the last line.

Soon all the demons began shaking violently and black smoke came spewing out of their mouths, rising up to the ceiling in a dark swirl. On the last note of the rite the demon smoke flashed red then white sending a burst of heat into the room, and with that the demons were sent back to the fire they came from.

The demonic hold on them gone, they slipped down the wall panting heavily.

They looked to one another sending each other tired barley there grins. Groaning past the aches that came with fighting, they go to their feet. Henriksen came in and with a chuckle wiped the blood from his lip.

As the people on the floor were beginning to wake up, the lights surged back on.

Saphira let out an exhausted chuckle as she wrapped her arms around their shoulders, then pressed a loud, dry kiss to the side of Dean's head. "God, I love that brain!" she exclaimed giving him a noogie for good measure.

He did not blush damnit. "You had some good moves yourself? How'd you flip that one guy he had like eighty pounds on you? And the blade work, nice."

"Should have seen Sam here clubbing 'em. Damn fine brawler." Her praise making him shuffle self-consciously.

They all breathed a collective sigh of triumph and relief.

They won.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Packing it in, Nancy and Phil herded the dazed and confused people.

"So what are you going to tell them?" Sam asked Henriksen. Just because they had fought together didn't erase the fact the agent had been gunning for the two.

"The least ridiculous lie I can come up with in the next five minutes."

"Good luck with that," Dean said. "Not to pressure you or anything, but what are you planning to do about us?"

"I'm gonna kill you." he stated simply. Dean raised a bewildered eyebrow, he hadn't expected that.

"Sam and Dean Winchester were in the chopper when it caught fire. Nothing left. Can't even identify them with dental records. Rest in peace, guys."

They shook hands. "And as for you," he turned to Saphira. "Well, you were never here." She smiled at him in appreciation.

"Now get the hell out of here," he ordered. No need to tell them twice.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Dean parked them in the furthest motel in Monument, being declared dead, again, lessened the rush to get out of there. Plus no one had it in them for a longer drive. He eased himself down on the motel bed, just letting the tension of a hunt out when Saphira spoke.

"So…that was fun. Met some new people, kicked some ass, you two have a demonic bounty on your heads," she listed.

He suppressed a groan. She had held it in till now, and while that was impressive he would have liked to not talk about it at all.

"It's a long story," he hedged. She gave him a flat look. Yeah, guess that was a lame excuse with her.

"I'm only gonna say this once and afterward we never bring it up again, ever. Our dad got into hunting because of our mom. She was killed when Sam was six months old. She burned to death on the nursery ceiling, by a demon with yellow eyes." Dean paused to swallow the lump out of his throat. He always had a hard time talking about his mom.

Saphira's eyes narrowed in anger and recognition. "Damn it."

"What?"

"How pissed would you be if I said that same demon came to me about thirty years ago with a job offer?"

 ***flashback***

Smoke hung heavy in the bar like a fog. At the far end of the counter a lonely figure nursed a steady stream of beers. Deep blue eyes traced patterns and shapes in the smoke, completely immersed in the pointless, mind-numbing task.

The chair next to them figure was pulled out and a heavy form sat down.

"Well, I would have thought we would have this little meeting in a less clandestine place. I mean a smoky bar is so played out," the man joked. The other did nothing, didn't even a twitch.

"Oh, come on, that was funny," the man tried again. This time the figure moved to stand, intended to leave the unwanted attention the man was giving.

"Come on, don't be like that. I got a proposal to throw your way. I've heard the stories about you; you were quite the powerhouse in your time. Even a few times afterwards, thought you might like to be it again."

Taking the lack of movement as a go ahead he continued.

"I have a need for a very special child, you see. And you are incredibly special."

"I'm no child," Saphira growled. "Special or not, I'm not interested."

"This offer, this job I have requires the strongest, most cunning and resourceful of individuals. The best in a generation. Someone like you can't be remade."

Saphira smirked. "You have pretty eyes but you're no crossroads demon. Why don't you try your charms on that twisted psycho Lilith? I'm sure she'd love the attention."

"The person has to have a mind for planning, strategy. They would be the ruler of Hell and its armies. You can be powerful again, maybe even strong enough to strike a blow back at the ones you clipped your wings. All you have to do is say yes."

"Go bother someone else," she denied leaving him in the smoke.

 ***end flashback***

"Had I known his idea of bothering someone else was to poison kids I would have-"

"Killed him?" Sam guessed. "Why kill him when you can throw him in a devil's trap and play with him?"

"Why'd he come to you first?" Dean wondered. She was more than qualified for the job. She fought like hell and her mind was something to be amazed at but he couldn't see every demon bowing to her like she made Ruby. She quelled her easily. She held command over her without breaking a sweat and this was without her so-called powers.

"Let's make one thing clear; I am not innocent. I'm not always sweet. I can easily be the same poison I go out and kill. I try not to be but there's no denying that there were times I was. I have carved my way in this world in wood, rock and bodies. The full stories behind what you've read in history books would terrify you if you knew it was me.

"I've accepted I'm a queen among freaks a long time ago, and that was before I dealt my powers away to the devil. The quirks I have now are the ones I was born with and not even a deal can fix what's wrong there." She finished with a cruel smirk to herself. "It's all in the bloodlines. Mine is as tempting as it is forbidden and impossible to match up to. So…what's so unique about my runner up?"

"The blood made me a precog, I got visions. Mostly about the other kids," Sam answered.

She laughed. "Funny, that was the one thing I never did myself. I always left the seeing ahead to Dad. So I'm guessing when the grand champ refused the belt, Lilith decided she wanted to be the special one in every way and is now gunning for the only one who everyone thinks can oppose her."

"Pretty much," Dean agreed, wincing as his arm movement jostled his shoulder.

"You're off the hook for now. Let me check that shoulder of yours and we'll call it even for the day." He agreed.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

As a hunter of all things supernatural there comes with the job a natural inevidentableity. Finish one job another takes it place. You go in, id the creature, find out where it is and what kills it, then gank it and save people who would never know you were there.

That's how it worked. That's where you got lured into a false sense of security. When you let a successful hunt go to your head. Oh you can take pride in a monster well beheaded but there is a fine line between appreciative at being the one still alive and inviting the universe at large to try again.

They enjoyed a much needed breather after the last hunt. Dean's shoulder still needed to heal. At midday the next day, there was a knock at the door. It wasn't an aggressive knock, but no one they knew, knew they were here. Curious.

Dean opened the door and found it was Ruby. She prowled in as soon as the door was opened wide enough.

"Turn on the news," she ordered. Well hello to you too, Dean thought, doing as she said.

A newscaster appeared on screen, a smoldering pile of building in the background. "The community is still reeling from the tragedy that happened here just a few hours ago. Authorities believe a gas main ruptured, causing an explosion that ripped apart the police station-"

Ice seized in their guts, that blackened pile had been their battle ground last night. And now it was destroyed no way that wasn't a coincidence.

"-and claimed the lives of everyone inside. Among the deceased, at least six officers and staff included Sheriff Melvin Dodds, Deputy Phil Amici and secretary Nancy Fitzgerald as well as three FBI agents identified as Steven Groves, Calvin Reidy and Victor Henriksen." Everyone they had met yesterday was dead, their faces flashed across the screen.

"Two fugitives in custody were also killed. We'll continue to follow the story here at the scene, but for now back, to you, Jim." As she finished Ruby flicked off the TV. No one said anything for a beat. Their brains not quite getting what had happened. They won; they beat them all back…how did it get this bad?

"Must have happened right after we left," Sam murmured.

"Considering the size of the blast, smart moneys on Lilith," she informed them while tossing them a black bag.

"What's in this?" Dean questioned not favor of taking anything a witch made. "Something that'll protect you. Throw Lilith off your trail…for the time being at least."

"Thanks," Sam said.

"Don't thank me," she spat. "Lilith killed everyone. She slaughtered your precious little virgin, plus a half a dozen other people. So after your big speech about humanity and war, turns out your plan? was the one with the body count.

"Do you know how to run a battle? You strike fast and you don't leave any survivors. So no one can go running to tell the boss. So next time…we go with my plan."

The boys didn't say anything, thoroughly chastised like only their guilty conscious and their dad could make them.

But not everyone was so beat down. "How do we know it wasn't you?"

Everyone's attention went to Saphira, who stared at the demon in defiance. "What?"

"How do we know it wasn't you that went squealing to the boss?" she repeated.

"Why would I offer to kill myself if I wanted them dead?" she scoffed.

"Because then you can still buddy up to them," she accused. "We both know your offer was bullshit. Hell, I've only known these boys for a week and I know they wouldn't kill that girl anymore then they'd kill each other. But just asking makes you look good, than you can be offended at the refusal then come here announcing that they failed without your help, and then next time, they wouldn't even ask, they'd beg for your help."

"You're delusional," she sneered.

"Am I? Why else would you come here? What good does telling them this do if not to benefit whatever it is you want? They're not stupid. They're amazing hunters; they do the job and save people every freaking day. To top it off they're stubborn, won't move in inch if you tried to shove them anywhere.

"But you know this. So you don't, you sly and nudged them into the direction you want and all the while they think it's the opposite of what you want, and by the time they figure it out, you and your buddies have slit their throats. I've seen leeches like you suck out everything that's good in a person. If you had stayed and fought with us we could have caught that last demon. But no, you left, he got away and I blame you for the aftermath, not them.

"You are black, you are poison. And you're happy to be that way because you can't remember any different and ignorance is not as good an excuse as it used to be."

"As a matter of fact I do remember being human, that's why I'm helping them."

"Help?! You call this help? You only show up to kill things and crush morale. Besides I don't see much of a difference between what you are now and when you were human. You sold out to be a witch, pledge your body and soul to a demon then became one. You may have convinced them…now convince me."

"I don't have to do anything for you. Though you do need a serious reality check, if you think being with them can undo the fact that you're a pathetic, washed-out, abandoned fossil. You think playing guardian angel to them can fix anything broken about you, you're crazier than Lilith is." Glancing back at them she said, "If you're still serious about staying out of the hotbox, I'd suggest losing the distractions and dead weight." Then walked to the door.

 _Thunk_.

Her knife appeared embedded in the door, a centimeter from her face. For the first time Dean and Sam saw fear in her face, and with good reason.

Saphira had turned into the human equivalent of a tornado touching down and ripping apart a house. They'd never seen an expression like that on Saphira's faced _—_ on _anyone's_ face. Even through all the times someone had tried to kill them. They'd never seen an expression like that, so dark and sharp and violent. She had said she was fearsome, now she proved it.

Eerily calm. Saphira looked completely lethal in that moment. It was terrifying.

Dean had wondered even if she wasn't exaggerating about her downward spirals why leave the fight when it still did some good? Now he understood. She had left to avoid fully becoming a cold and detached being that did whatever needed doing. You don't stare into a black hole and expect to come back intact she'd said. She was afraid of becoming what she hunted. A fear he had himself.

She walked over to the demon pinned only by her own fear and pried the knife out. She didn't wave it in her face; instead she re-sheathed it with a snap.

"Listen up here witchy-poo. You talk about having your neck out for them and you do a damn fine job of making it look like it's on the chopping block, but when it came time to show it, you left. You tell them your way of winning battles, like you're such a role model in either of our lives, but not wars. From someone who's fought in both it doesn't have to be that way, it's not supposed to be about how much blood you spill it's about how much isn't. You're just a soldier, I was both that and a general time and again.

"I might not know much about them, but then they don't know much about me. But already I can tell you couldn't want better friends then them. But that's their choice not yours. For whatever reason they let my washed out pathetic fossil ass stay and I'm grateful for every second that I'm here and not back alone in my house, but I'll leave if they ask. Because they should get to choose their friends, the people who have they're back and protect them like they do complete strangers' everyday without thanks.

"Because they are good people and they deserve that. And if the demon Barbie has a problem with that I have no problem dragging your borrowed, blonde, skinny ass to Salem where they know how to deal with your kind.

"Next time I see you, as I'm sure we will, you better keep both hands on that blade at all times and your snake tongue behind your teeth, or my next throw is going to be a little more to the right. Now get out of here before someone drops a house on you."

Never had they seen a demon hightailed it like that, even with exorcisms and holy water involved.

When she was alive, Mom would always say angels were watching over him and his brother. After the fire Dean had lost all forms of faith. Watching Saph now, all benevolent and rallying for the good in them, not letting a she-demon blame them for what her kind did with her wings on her arms, he found a little bit of his old faith in angels returning. If it was a wisecracking, leering, sarcastic, protective one like Saphira, he could find faith in that, at least for now.

Reason she fit in so easy with him and Sam was because she understood them. She knew the fear of being alone, this week had been a silent scramble to not let go of a good thing when it finally fall in her lap after so long. They all had fought for every little scrap of warmth they could find and coveted it like Smaug his gold. Together they made up the triad of loneliness; it was only together that they forgot what they were. She was their friend. No undoing that now, that path in their lives was set the second Sam wanted to go back to her. No hostility or injury would separate them now.

Now that Ruby was gone, all trace of anything remotely close to threatening drained out of her, like a balloon getting its air let out, she deflated.

Now she radiated a kind of old energy- a melancholy that came from knowing she didn't belong in the world, on either side; the supernatural or the human. It wasn't being who she was, it was what she became to protect others and in doing so showed off her age which bled into the supernatural side. A side she wasn't sure they would accept about her.

"Sorry." She whispered to them not even looking either of them in the eye and retreated to the bathroom.

"Holy crap," Dean announced. Ruby hadn't even been that scared when they were dealing to the coven book club. "Yeah," Sam breathed.

Ruby wanted to use them for whatever she wasn't telling them. She slithered and curled her way into Sam mind, whispering empty promises he was too desperate and hopeful to see them for the falsehood they were, she wanted Sam to fight the demons after he was gone. She didn't care what they did to themselves so long as they were around to help save her own skin. Saphira only wanted friends, maybe friends that became family if there was any chance. Just anything to not be alone anymore.

She defended them, jumped right in a demons face for throwing failure in theirs and poking holes in her argument. She wouldn't let them think less of themselves. For all Dean's jokes of being awesome it was nice to see someone support it. She didn't ask for anything in return, she was happy to have a continued stay.

Sam wanted to believe there was good in everyone, human, monster, whatever, it leveled out with Dean's natural suspicion of even the most normal of people. She had a way of looking at it critically, seeing the absolute truth of the whole, then put it up with emotions to see the difference. With Ruby she was sure she was coning them like Bela had with much more lethal intent but couldn't figure out her end game. She wasn't dazzled by Ruby's 'I-remember-being-human' story like Sam. It was nice to know it wasn't just him that smelled something fake about her.

They liked her, she was an excellent fighter and planner, her personality floated around them like Wonka soda, she had more knowledge then even Bobby and John had. If they were going to commit to having a third member join them, she was it. She had own her baggage but she carried it well and seemed almost eager with helping shoulder theirs.

Think the decision had been made for them the second they went back to her house. She was going with them.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

That night Dean couldn't sleep, couldn't even begin to drift off. Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling, trying to force himself to sleep. A small simmer of light danced around then disappeared then continued the dance.

Dean craned his neck and saw Saphira had come out of the bathroom and was sitting by the window, staring out spinning one of her knives on the table, the full moon reflating off the silver.

He gave up on sleep, and went over. "What's up?" he greeted.

She shrugged not looking away from the window. "I don't sleep much."

"It's not your fault, what happened at the station."

Dean had a protest working its way out into the air, when she cut him off. "Even if we got all of them, every last demon that possessed the town. Everyone's safe and we won against all the odds. But those demons were sent for a reason, to kill you and Sam. You're chained up and in a box, easy kill. But then hours later there's no response, no call-in, no confirmed death. Lilith gets curious, comes to see what's going on, sees they've failed and you and Sam are gone with no idea where you're going. She's pissed, always would be no matter how we played it."

This did not assure him at all. All this meant was they were always going to fail, to get all those people killed, just because they were in the same place as them, because they helped them. He hated feeling like a failure.

"We may have lost three but we saved thirty. It's a sucky trade-off but that's how it is sometimes. But I know how it feels when the numbers never add up."

"That why you left?" he asked. Her gaze left the window and turned to him, the intensity of her gaze was piercing.

"There were times I would look behind myself and see the shattered remains of the pieces I had thrown away to do whatever needed doing. It was only when I realized I didn't feel anything for those pieces that I saw how twisted I had gotten. I didn't want to quit, but I had to, to rebuild while there was still something to build off of. I didn't like what I was becoming but I also don't like not doing anything, and I've done it over and over because that's the hand I have to play. I've lost people, good people; seen places I've absolutely adored get wiped off maps. But I'd never have met them, have the fun and craziness I did if I'd stayed where I was…yeah, I wouldn't miss that for the world."

"So you're staying with us. But what if you have to cut pieces again?"

"Won't be so bad this time. Didn't have anyone to ground me before, someone who'd pull me back if I went too far, I've got you two now. Don't act like we don't all feel familiar to each other."

They were, that's what was eerie about the whole thing. She was on the same wavelength, moved in synch with a rhythm the brothers had had for twenty-two years of knowing each other. Those few seconds after she'd told him she wasn't as human as she looked he'd been angry but more because he didn't see it for himself till it was too late. But then when Henriksen was threating to ship them off and away from each other he felt the urge to protect her from the danger. An urge more powerful than with people who needed saving and a hairs breath beneath Sammy. You don't feel like that for strangers. Yes she was very out there and odd but endearing.

"Know what I tried to convince myself was the reason I let you come with us?" She made noncommittal hum for him to continue.

"You're happy. All the horrible stuff you've seen and done, and you still smile. And I kind of wanted that for Sam when I'm gone. Figured you'd look after him afterward. You kept him going during the loop, and this time you'd know each other. You could get him through it."

"Dean, no matter how good a friend I am to him, I still won't be you," she denied sorrowfully. He knew she was right; having a friend won't stop Sam from doing what he wanted. If anything he'd run away from her and she'd just chase after him till he got himself hurt and she was out of reach.

"Sam doesn't need this."

"Having his only family get chewed on by hellhounds, who does? But you might have more luck then most do with a one year deal. It's a leap year, you get one extra day."

"That's hardly gonna be enough time to change anything."

She smiled out the window up at the stars. "All depends on what happens on the one day."

Dean was starting to think it might have already happened. Things defiantly started changing when they let her in the Impala. Slowly the layers that made up their shield were being peeled off for each other.

"Trust me Dean, I'm gonna watch you and Sam hunt till you're two old grumps who complain about everything…so pretty much right now without the wrinkles."

"You know people that stay with us, tend to not live very long," he warned.

"Well, that's good…because people that stay with me tend to live past ninety."

It was a nice thought.

"Speaking of leap year, I got a lead on our next hunt."

"Our?" her head cocked to the side.

"Yeah, you're coming right?" he teased. "If you want me to."

"Yeah, I can let ya tag around." She rolled her eyes playfully.

"So this hunt," he began.

"Hold up, Sam, you wanna weigh in here?"

There was a slight pause before Sam sat up in his bed. You could see his sheepish face at getting caught even in the lowlight. "How'd you know I wasn't asleep?"

"Your right foot twitches when you're asleep." She stated as if were simple. "What were you watching me sleep when I was at your house?" he asked feeling a little violated.

"Yeah, and you are a sinfully boring feverish sleeper. No mumbling, no flailing, nothing. In fact it was only when you were getting better that you got to be any kind of entertaining. Twice I came down for drink and you almost scared it right out of my hands. Then I had to bit my own arm to keep from laughing my ass off."

"What happened?"

"Well the first time you snored, and when I say snored I mean it sounded like someone starting up a chainsaw the same time a car backfired, thought I had been shot. The second was an actual sentence…Question, for what purpose do you need a ruler on your bed side table?"

Dean let out a roar of laughter from deep in his gut, while Sam flashed a neon shade of red. She might have started out as an annoyance, but he couldn't regret letting her in.

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	3. Ghostfacers

**Author's note** : I'm amazed at how easy and fun it was to write this one. Hopefully that doesn't affect the writing and make it crappy. Also I know that Harry and Ed did not meet at a Ghostbusters movie, I just thought I'd point that bit of trivia out and run with it.  
 **Disclaimer** : The usual, this is Kripke's world and his boys, I just took them for a spin.

The feeling that you get when you are staring at the completion of a lifelong dream-goal is the most giddy, high, and tingly feeling ever. Not even Mary Poppins' word can cover it all.

Since the moment they met, it had been Harry and Ed's dream to find proof of the supernatural and show it to the world, skyrocketing them to frame. Now they had everything right for the capture but a reveal is nothing without a little grand fair, some embellishment, otherwise people lose the full effect. And no offense to the great writers and stuff, but they would like people to appreciate them while they were still kicking.

The best way to get the word out was through the TV. They'd be like the next Mythbusters, they'd show the world that all the camp fire stories they grow up on were true and all around them.

They had already shot the opening intro, giving it a very masterpiece theatre vibe sure to mystify audiences. It went something like…

Harry sat tuning a brandy glass, looking dark and mysterious. "Hello," he greeted. "I am Harry Spangler."

"And I am Ed Zeddermore. Now if you have received this tape, you must be some sort of bigwig network executive. Well, today is your lucky day, mister."

"Because the unsolicited pilot you are about to watch is the bold new future of 'reality TV'." He did the air quotes one handed.

Ed hummed in agreement. "We know you've had it hard during the crippling writer's strike," he sympathized.

"Lazy fat cats," Harry conquered.

"Who needs writers when you've got guys like us?" he dismissed.

Harry turned the dimmer switch down casting dark shadows across their faces, making them look more sinister and serious.

"Our team faced horrible horrors to bring you the footage that will change your world forever. So strap in for the scariest hour in the history of television," Ed proclaimed cradling a skull in his palms, trembling with either terror or excitement.

"In the history of your life..." Harry affirmed.

"Strap in for..." Ed continued.

"Ghostfacers!" they exclaimed at the same time.

It was pure Hollywood gold!

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Their old website Hellhounds Lair had been a flop after a case in Texas and a fake phone call that said they'd have film rights for their work, they decided the name was out due to bad press.

But this was a more sure thing then that was. Harry and Ed had been best friends since they begged their moms to take them to the same Ghostbusters Halloween screening. They had sat next to each other in the theatre and each informed the other they had a name of one of the characters and believed in ghosts too.

Bam! friends and ghost hunters for life…and maybe afterlife or was that a form a constant suicide if you hunt ghosts even after you died?…whatever.

They agreed that since they were making a bigger move up to the big time and would be hounded by fans they would need more hands to deal with production and for dealing out a majority of the work.

The team was made up of Ed's sister, Maggie. She got in not only because of her ability to crank out anything and everything on the computer for research but because she had heard Harry and Ed talking and complained to their mom to have her join. Good brother sister bonding or something like that.

The next guy, Spruce, was a dungeon master Harry had run across in a magic convention and then hit it off after they both destroyed each other in World of Warcraft. Plus the guy was a pro at the camera, he had read the whole instruction book! Mad man he was. And perfect for Facers.

The last member was a dude named Corbett. Ed, at first, didn't want him to join because he seemed really dazed on his interview; he spent a majority of it just staring stupidly at him with a flitting smile playing on his lips. Dude was either on more pot then he and Harry had ever smoked or he wasn't all there. But Harry had convinced him he'd make a great coffee and errand boy, so he was in.

Now it was time to compile the ground breaking footage that would go viral and skyrocket them to big leagues. February 29, all research had pointed to this one location to catch a ghost on film and shock the world with the truth.

No longer would they be the underdogs. Hellhound lair's flop had prompted them to see the amateur weak sauce it was and use it as the springboard to this their ticket to the top.

No one knew how to really work the editing software but that was good, they didn't need to relay on those Hollywood crutches, this was real. This was the raw and in-depth truth of the world being revealed on camera. Screenshots might be lacking but that just meant they had to focus everything on the information, the dialogue, and the passion of ghost hunting.

They had to film them themselves without the other Facers because of work schedules and school things. It was pretty simple for them to get a few shots of the front tire shrieking to a halt and a low view for badass car exits, having the car speakers playing some western music to add to the mood.

Ed looked at his watch, which he couldn't see because of his long sleeves, then to Harry, who nodded. They both began doing the slow motion walk although the speeding car in the background took away from the effect but they powered through. True badasses didn't care or even notice the little things around them.

Since things would no doubt get hairy on their mission to capture spirits of the departed it seemed like a good counterbalance to get all the calm and tranquil shots explaining things about the team and such then get to real gritty takes when things start to go bump.

"It can get kind of hard balancing our day time careers with our nighttime missions," Ed lamented.

"Yeah but Ed and I pretty much call the shots at the Kinko's where we work, we can usually get off at six every night?" Harry questioned.

"Yeah, six o'clock. It used to be just you and I taking on the cases, just Harry and me."

"Two lone wolves," Harry interjected.

Ed nodded in agreement and kept on. "And two lone wolves need, uh…" he fumbled losing his train of thought, "other wolves." It was a lame finish but Harry jumped in a saved it by nodding in agreement.

Really this is what would save it, the easy camaraderie, it wasn't forced. The pressure was on to show the world the truth without the grand fair money could give it but no amount of money could get you true in the moment real emotions from the heart of the diehard average regular person.

The gang was all set back at HQ, Harry had texted ahead to make sure Spruce had the camera ready when they walked in.

"Morning, 'facers," Ed greeted, in full badass, casual leader mood.

"Good morning, Ghostfacers," Harry exclaimed enthusiastically right behind him.

Ed was the leader because after the ghost in Texas when Harry was ready to pack up and book it. Ed had stayed steady, on point, and focused, the mark of a good leader.

"It's 7pm, dude," Spruce informed him from behind his camera.

"It's morning to a Ghostfacer," Harry corrected. "Corbett, what do we got, buddy?"

Corbett jumped at little at his spot by the dry erase board. "Oh, I'm just putting some-" he stammered only to be cut off when Ed breezed over.

"Yeah, this has got to go up here. That's got to go here, got to see the whole field," he directed with hand gestures while Corbett just looked at him in awe.

"Markers, eraser, good job," he praised, then went off not aware of the blush spreading across Corbett's cheeks.

When Spruce had filmed his interview/introduction piece during a restock he stated, "I first saw Ed putting up flyers down at the- the outlet mall in Scagan, so I-I read one and I thought to myself 'huh. Where do ghosts come from?' and now, here I am."

He explained all this was a big goofball smile because it wasn't ghosts he had been thinking about when he walked up to Ed at the outlet. The real reason was because after staring at Ed's hot butt for ten minutes he decided to go and ask if he wanted to grab a coffee only to get roped into a ghost hunting team. Not that bad of a letdown, least this way he got to spend time with his crush, build up a rapport.

Corbett wasn't the only one with a crush on the team. Harry would never tell Ed this, but his sister was kind of hot. There had only been a token protest when Ed told him she was coming onboard.

Never do anything with your best friend and follow ghost chasers sister, it was against the bro code. Still, it didn't say anywhere he could do things to get her attention.

Like scooting between her and the table, popping his tongue tonelessly, poking her sides. The silliness of it all brought a smile to his face, thinking it could be this simple and fun if they did get together, until she turned around and hit him in the shoulder.

"Ow! Ed, your sister's abusing staff," he called.

"That's adopted sister, thank you very much," he responded blandly, focused on his computer. Not noticing said 'adopted sister' was staring at him then gave the 'really?' look to Spruce and by extension his camera.

The dismissive attitude was not new or hidden. Spruce had asked Maggie about it and both agreed if it wasn't a ghost or anything supernatural Ed didn't have much attention for it.

"Ed has been obsessed with the supernatural since we were kids," she explained. "And then he met Harry at a Ghostbusters screening and it was love at first geek."

Ed's latest reason with Maggie was that she was only on his team because she got mom to make him. The whole thing was awesome blackmail for any and all future girlfriends or boyfriends that might come along. And while he was a pain in the ass, she really didn't want him hurt because he fumbled with anything harder than sending a text message.

Spruce was named primary cameraman due his staller camera knowledge but it also meant if he wanted his face to have any air time he'd have to do it himself.

"Spruce here," he greeted. "What up playaaa?" Being the closet camera guru that he was, didn't get him much free time at his job, where his demon of a boss made him go out on the shooting range to collect golf balls, while people were still hitting. Yes, his pickup cart had a cage around it to prevent getting hit; it still could count as a hate crime.

Not because he was Jewish but because of his Indian blood, some people still weren't satisfied with taking their land and forcing them into casinos.

"I am 15/16 Jew and 1/16 Cherokee Indian. My grandfather is a morhel, my great grandfather was a tallis marker and my great-great grandfather was a degenerate gambler and had a, uh, peyote addiction."

Introductions were easy, they could go back and try to edit them to reflect on them better, but once the camera hit the ghosts there would be no editing; why go to the trouble to video one if you were just going to edit it out. That wasn't the truth, that was Hollywood dime store crap.

They were basically shooting live making it all or nothing and nothing was not an option. Ghostfacers didn't come to bail out, they came to rip away the veil of lies the world wrapped itself in.

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"Okay, people. Let's cut the chatter and get on a mission," Ed instructed calling the team to gather at the table.

"Okay? Morton House," he said while writing on the board. "One of our big fish. All right, we all know the legend. Every four years, supposedly, this becomes the most haunted place in American." His lecture was undermined by the marker falling out of his hand, but he ignored it. Great practice for the house when little uncontrollable things happen it was best to roll with them.

Scoping out the place, it looked just like you typical haunted house; abandoned, rotting, dusty old house. Yet it never was for sale or torn down instead it was caged up. Might as well have hung a huge neon sign 'Ghosts live here' over it.

"The leap year ghost some call it," Harry began. A small bang sounded behind him messing up his musing pose. Looking over his shoulder he saw it was just Corbett passing out the drinks. "The ghost returns at midnight just as February 29th begins."

"And no one had ever stayed the night, right?" Maggie asked.

"Yeah, well, every testimony that we dug up, every eyewitness has cut and run well before midnight," Harry clarified.

"Well, that's all about to change, baby," Ed declared, confident.

"Absolutely true, Ed. Absolutely true." Harry conquered as Maggie toasted to the team's success.

"Mm," Ed hummed in to his coffee. "That's good," he complimented.

"It's French vanilla," Corbett explained in that eager puppy dog way of his. "'Cause the other day, you said how much you liked it so…" he trailed off.

"Thank you." Being the boss was tough, having to make all the decisions for everyone and get met with opposition if the others didn't like what you planned or said. But it was nice to know that at least one of his team listened to even the littlest of things he said and then did something about it.

"You are welcome," Corbett stated, proud and bashful at the same time then ran off.

The whole interaction earned a dry look from Harry. Really Ed was the smartest guy Harry knew when it came to ghost tracking, yet he wasn't picking up on the vibes Corbett was putting down on him. In Harry's opinion the flirting, both accidental on Ed's part and one-sided, obvious on Corbett's part was so head-desk bangingly there.

Harry had dragged Spruce to his car the other day to voice his concerns.

"I like Corbett. I do. Shows up early, does his job, lot of good hustle out-" he was interrupted by a knock on the window. He whipped around. Speak of the love sick devil. Corbett gave him a wave and a thumbs up always with that wide carefree grin of his. The groups own eager puppy. It was moments like these that made Harry think the group was more mystery gang then Ghostbusters. As he was leaving he had to hold back a long suffering sigh. Oh, boy.

"I think he has the hots for Ed," he stated bluntly to the camera. "And that could spell trouble for the whole team." Not that there was anything wrong if Ed was gay or would be happy with another guy. It was just the work they were setting out to do was serious. The odds of rash decisions being made were already high because they were a group of good close friends. With romance either one could go charging into danger without a second thought.

Spruce, after shooting Harry's concerns, asked Corbett his thoughts on Ed, all spy-like of course. Asking in the vague disguises of 'what do you think of the bosses?' Guy didn't even think twice about the question.

"Ed's kind of the more rugged with that really golden," he swallowed and continued in a day-dreamy voice, "beautiful sort of beard." He laughed off his lapse with a shake of his head. "Uh, and Harry's nice," he shrugged.

Oh yeah. Hots for the boss town, population: Corbett.

"29th is this Friday, 'Facers. We want this mission, we got to move on it now or guess what? He's gone for another four years," Ed stressed. Not mentioning that there were no other leads that they could pursue.

Suddenly, a loud noise broke through the amped up atmosphere.

"What is that?" Spruce asked. Then the wall started to move, knocking the board off and sending it crashing down onto the floor, pictures falling off.

Ed crouched down to look under the garage door to yell at whoever was trying to come in.

"Dad! Come on!" he reprimanded. At least his dad looked embarrassed for the screw up.

"Just cut the camera," Harry demanded. "We don't need that. We don't need this part, we don't-"

Most errors could be written off, they had the passion and charism to pull viewer focus but this had no salvageable production value no matter how they spun it. Just hope that it didn't cast a shadow on Friday's mission.

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They get out of the van a block from the house then hustled to it at ten on the dot, giving them time to establish a nest.

"Stay low. Follow formation." Ed whispered his commands to the team, all of who were hunched over, half to avoid detection from any wondering eyes, other half because all the equipment was heavy. They stopped at the chain link fence that wrapped around the house.

"Okay as suspected. A lot of people have tried to break into the Morton House. The local authorities have just got fed up," Ed informed.

"Looks like the cops have gotten this place pretty well fenced off," Harry noted as Ed pulled the bolt cutters from his bag.

"Wait," Maggie said as she saw them. "Didn't you guys get, like a permit or something?"

"A permit?" Harry questioned. "That's a good idea for next time."

"Yeah," Ed agreed. "Car, Car!" Spruce alerted.

"Flashlights off," Ed commanded, as they all hunkered down in a big bush.

A car crawled by its radio blaring rock n roll. Someone in the passenger seat was looking at the house, and then sped off.

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Sam leaned back into his seat. "Nothing," he reported.

"Would have thought there'd be at least one curious kid out," Dean said.

"Maybe we'd have seen them if we weren't jamming the whole neighborhood to American Band!" Saphira retorted from the backseat.

"It's not that loud." Dean denied.

"Dean, if the bass were any higher, it would save me a trip to the Love Shack."

Dean killed the track.

"Why'd you stop?" she cried. "'Cause of what you said," he informed her.

"I was just stating a fact, not asking you to quit it."

"That's not happening in my car."

Saphira snorted. "That cannot be the most action this backseat has seen. I refuse to believe that."

"I, so, did not need that thought," Sam groaned. "Too late now," Saphira grinned.

"Come on, game face," Dean criticized.

"You'd have kept playing that song, you'd have seen mine."

"Saph!" Dean snapped. Saphira only laughed at having riled him up.

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As the car was speeding away Spruce called out to the others. "It's okay. Not cops, just hicks."

Ed cut the lock off, the chains landing with a rattle. They rushed to the house, with Ed chanting behind them. "Let's go, let's go, let's go. Go. Go."

The front door was as rotted as the rest of the house, hanging to the frame by one screw. The whole inside was coated in a layer of grimy dust, it reeked of mold and decay, more pungent then a porta potty, with junk piled half hazard on the walls.

"There's the kitchen sink," Harry noted. "Copy that. Copy that," Ed replied.

They did a quick sweep of the house to spot ideal camera placement and a nesting spot which was in the main room.

"All right, everybody." Ed gathered everyone. "Ghostfacers, let's line up. Everybody. We'll set up camp right here. This is command center one."

"We're gonna call it this the Eagle's Nest," Harry enthused.

Thank God the ability to fast-forward was universal, otherwise the viewers would have to watch them set up shop at normal pace and hear the arguments over what went where. After the equipment was set up they spread out to set up the stationary cameras.

"Hallway cam one up and running," Corbett reported, giving the camera one final adjustment.

"Looking good Corbett," Ed responded. Corbett chuckled, a charming grin spreading across his lips. "Copt that Ed," he teased.

The context of their conversion actually registered in Ed's brain. "Uh…uh, you're welcome." Then scrambled away from the topic. "All right, Spruce, how you doing there buddy?"

"Checking basement camera two, mein furhrer," Spruce informed him.

"Maggie, I got no visual on you, Maggie," Ed said. "This is Maggie. Do you copy?" she answered into her shoulder.

"There you are. Hello. Harry, are you alive?" he asked. "Upstairs Ed. Camera one."

"Looking good," he praised. "I can smell syndication. All right, fellas. Let's regroup at the Eagle's Nest." A glance at his watch told him it was 10:40, perfect timing.

Once they all returned to the nest they started gearing up.

"All right. Battery check, battery check," Ed muttered.

"Check. Check. Yo, Corbett, dude," Spruce said, drawing attention to Corbett decked out in camo and gear.

"Lookin' good, Corbett," Harry approved. "You're Robocop," Spruce cheered, causing him to blush.

"R-Robocop? You think I- you think I look like Robocop?" he asked flattered.

"Everybody bring it in," Ed called. "We've all been here before. Standard walk through. Team one west. Team two east." His instructions were met with nods of agreement, faces psyched.

"Spin the tires, light the fire," he pumped. "Ghostfacers on three. Hands in. one, two, three…"

"Ghostfacers!" they all exclaimed.

The hunt was on!

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Ed lead the way, EMF held prime in his hand. "Hello?" he called out to the room. "I'm speaking to the restless spirits of the Morton House."

The first empty bedroom got no response, not even a blip.

"Hello? My name's Ed." They approached a closed door. "Careful," he cautioned. "Watch my back."

With pleasure, Corbett thought, than got serious. Opening the door let off a cloud of dust.

"What's your name? EMF .3, .29. Is there an entity or entities here with us now? Can you give us a sign of your presence?"

Corbett began to pant; the reality that they might actually see a ghost was finally hitting him. This was real. This wasn't looking like a good way to pine after a crush anymore.

"You gotta breathe, buddy," Ed informed him.

"I can't breathe," he denied. "Corbett, you-" he broke off when something shifted began them.

A rat squealed as it ran away. Pretty sure he scared them more than they did him. Corbett whimpered, fear flooding his body, freezing it like a Gorgon's stare.

"Corbett, night vision," Ed instructed. "Okay. Okay. Okay. I got it. Okay," he stammered as he fumbled the switch on.

"Calm down. Breathe, okay?" Ed soothed. "Calm the whirl winds of your mind."

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Up on the second floor Spruce, Harry, and Maggie advanced down a long hallway.

"We're doing a basic EMF, EVP, temp-flux sweep," Harry explained to the viewers, sure that Ed wouldn't cover it. Ed preferred to talk with actions, forgetting that stupid people made a sizable chunk of viewers for everything on TV. Got to appeal to the masses.

"Looks like we've got all of our ducks in a row here." He assured just as the EMF meter jumped and hummed, and Spruce's camera freaked out in static pixels.

"Whoa," Spruce voiced.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Oh, the camera's fritzing or something," he answered, flipping the camera around to look at it. "That's weird. It's gone."

"All right. Get this. Get this." Harry gestured to a closed door. He tried to kick it down, but a three year old apparently kicked harder than him. "Turn the knob," Spruce urged. Really no one needed to see that.

Maggie beat him to it, cracking it open slightly. Harry tapped it open the rest of the way with his foot, not giving up on opening the door that way. Spruce leaned in closer to see if anything was in there, when Harry started freaking out.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" He screamed as he took off down the hallway.

Spruce looked back into the room and saw…only a dead rat on the floor. "It's just a rat, dude," he admonished. If the kick was weak that act of overdramatics paled in comparison.

"I don't really like rats," Harry explained. "They're gross. Rats are like the rats of the world." He shook off his disgust and tried to get back the work. "What-was that an apparition? Was that a spectral- was that a .4? What do we got, 'cause the EMP was just off the-"

As he rambled on and came closer, Spruce picked up the rat and as Harry came to the door he threw it at him.

"Oh God!" he squealed, doing a funny jig of creeps. "Oh, that is so not funny, Spruce," he reprimanded.

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Outside lights could be seen flashing through the boards on the windows. Dean put on his no-nonsense face.

"Great," he grumbled. "A couple of kids on a dare." Sam subconsciously mirrored his brother expression. They didn't like other people being on the same job as them, they were territorial like that. They didn't like amateurs either.

Saphira held back saying everyone was an amateur until they got some experience under their belts. Neither of them were as ass kicking as they were now without practice. But neither liked it when she pointed out the obvious or their less than awesome years when they were just as stupid.

"Cops?" Sam said to Dean, asking about which cover they should play. "Yep," he confirmed. They had grabbed their badges when they left. Unfortunately, Saphira was going to have to stay back, at least until they could get to a Kinko's and fake up some ID for her.

If the ghost did show up tonight like the pattern said it would, then the others needed to be gone before all the hinky stuff went down. They weren't hard to find, two of the idiots clattered around like a bull in a China shop, hitting any and everything. They walked up on them freaking out over a branch in the window.

One turned and saw them then screamed. Busted.

"Freeze! Police officers!" Dean grunted. "Don't move."

"Oh, God," the one guy dressed like Rambo whimpered. The light on his head was blinding them a bit.

"Take it easy," Sam mildly soothed. "Let's see some identification."

The camera's they were totting around was a surprise. Awesome, now they had to pry nerds away from their toys, that always went well and fast.

"Come on. Let's see some ID," Dean barked.

"What- are we under- under arrest?" Camo guy blubbered. Jeez, guy looked like he'd wet himself, before he passed out.

"We are unarmed," the mini grizzly bear defended, as his friend handed over his drivers with a whimper.

"Want to explain the weirdo outfit, Mr., uh, Corbett?" Dean questioned. "Uh," he responded.

"Whoa. I know you," the other stated.

"Yeah, sure you do," Dean answered skeptically. "Give me some identification."

"Yeah ho- whoa, hold on a second. I know the both of you guys. Yeah," he persisted, sure and definite.

Mini Pooh Bear was looking nowhere near as intimidated as when they first showed up, now he looked kind of let down.

"Holy shit!" Sam breathed, realizing something. "What?" Dean asked.

"Uh, West Texas…the…the tulpa we had to take out. Those two goofballs that almost got us killed. The hellhounds or something?" Sam explained.

It took a moment to think back to West Texas, a lot had happened since then. Oh, yeah. The mint condition pompous douchebags that thought they knew everything because they really wanted to, to be famous but were actually an embarrassment to hunters everywhere. Last seen driving off on Sam's crank call bathing in the aroma of dead fish by Dean.

"Fuck me."

"Yeah, we're not hellhounds anymore, okay? It didn't test well," he informed them, a tone of haughty superiority in his words.

If the guy wasn't such a dick, Dean would almost like the way he didn't let anyone talk down to him or care what others thought.

"Ed, what's going on?" the guy, Corbett, asked trying to find a foothold in the mess. "They're not cops, buddy- not at all," he replied, flippant and dismissive.

"Ed, Ed, you had a partner then, didn't you- a different guy?" Dean asked. "Is he around here somewhere?"

"He's around, chasing ghosts," he answered, then leaned around them to something behind them. "Holy Arwen," he breathed, reverently.

Saphira had joined their little pow-wow.

"Thought you were going to stay back?" Dean groused. "Only cause you wanted to play cops and that busted. Look, I'm not going to spend Leap Day pacing in a dust trap while you two flex your muscles. If you wanted to leave me behind, should have left me in the car," she vented.

"Yeah, like I was going to leave you in my baby after the last conversion we had."

"If you think you're being there would have made any difference you're mistaken."

"I think viewer ratings will definitely go up," Ed murmured loud enough to hear. Something was going up all right.

Saphira backed away from him with a lamented, "I should have stayed in the car."

"Okay, well, listen, you and Rambo need to get your girlfriends and get out of here," Dean demanded.

Corbett, who had been scowling at Saphira turned to Dean; something got the guy to grow a backbone finally.

Ed laughed at him. Saphira winced, already seeing the train wreck coming. Ironic, that a guy who wanted to find ghosts couldn't see murder when it was right in his face. Sam couldn't believe the balls this guy thought he had. No one, human, at least, went up against his big brother and for good reason.

"Listen here, chisel chest, okay?" Ed condescended to Dean, actually going so far as to poke him in said chest. "We were here first. We've already set up base camp. So don't be all stomping in here with tough guy act and your lackey and your hot girlfriend. We beat you."

Dean wasn't known for being the most expressive person but when his face got this particular still and blank look like a mask, it meant that bones were going to be broken and bells would start tolling.

He turned slightly to Sam and Saphira. "They were here first," he repeated with a smile.

"Mm hmm," Ed hummed in agreement. Poor, brave, stupid fool believing it was that easy.

Dean's smile was a forewarning like the shimming of a cat's hide legs before it jumped. Only instead of a cat it was Dean with his guns or fists and instead of jumping it was a beat down. Sure enough…

Dean grabbed the arrogant ass by his coat and slammed him into the wall.

"Oh God!" he gasped. "Ed…" Dean growled.

"Yeah," he answered a flutter of fear in voice.

"…Where's your partner?"

"Up-upstairs, with the gang."

"Let's go wait for em, huh?" Dean gave him an extra shove before letting him go before walking to the main room, Sam and Saphira following leaving Ed and Corbett to filed out behind.

S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N*

Upstairs Harry's team had finally made it into the room. "10.6. 10.7, guys? The EMF is really spiking here," Harry noted as the meter hummed in his hand.

"Temperature's down like eleven degrees," Maggie confirmed.

"All right, all right, keep your eyes peeled," he instructed. "This could be it. Maggie, can I get a reading in here, please?" he directed to the side room.

As they went in Spruces camera fritzed again, longer this time. "Something keeps messing with the chip. I don't know what's going on here," he grumbled eyes fixed on the video screen.

The camera freaked again the whole screen was awash with static when it cleared there was a man where a second ago was empty space.

Spruce looked over his camera. Yeah, there was definitely a guy there. He wore an old suit and hat to match, a pensive look on his face. "Guys. Guys. Guys," Spruce alerted the others.

Suddenly suit guy faded in and out like bad TV reception. "What is this?" Harry asked still looking at his meter as he and Maggie came back. Then they saw the suit guy and gasped.

"Look, buddy," the guy said. "I'm sorry. That's it. I'm telling you, that's all the money I-"

A gunshot interrupted the man's excuse and shattered the air. Wide gaping holes appeared in the once pressed suit, he fall back screaming a bone chilling, Halloween graveyard at midnight scream.

And then the guy was gone, not a sign that he had ever been there. Except for three shocked people who witnessed the whole thing and got it on camera.

 _Holy shit!_

S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N*

Down in the main room, Dean was laying into the 'ghost hunters'.

"What are you doing in the Morton house, Ed? Huh, on a leap year? What were you thinking?" he asked, distaste clear in his voice.

"We're here to spend the night, okay?" Ed responded impatient. "It's for our TV show."

"What? Great. Perfect." Sam replied. Cause, _really_?

"Yeah, nobody's ever spent the night before," baby Rambo asserted.

"Uh, actually, yeah, they have," Dean corrected.

"Uh, we've never heard of them," Ed denied. The little shit thought they were making it up.

"Yeah, you know why? 'Cause the ones that have haven't lived to talk about it!"

"Oh come on. I don't believe you," Ed laughed.

Dean's hand clenched at his side, he moved to sock the little bug in the nose and hope for some broken glasses. Saphira appeared at his side and held his hand. "I'd really like to avoid a Revenge of the Nerds 5: Halloween, thanks," she explained calmly.

As Dean went to try and walk it off Saphira turned to Ed. "Let me spell this out as preschool as I can, this house has been here since before you were born, right? Did you honestly think that only you and your friends have had the idea to come in here?"

She had him stymied. Sam came in to drive the point home, putting the duffle on the table, pulling out the missing persons papers.

"Look- missing-person reports going back half a century," he informed Ed showing him the stack of papers of the people who never left this house. "John Graham stayed on a dare-gone. Julie Wilkerson –gone. There are tons more. All of them came to just stay the night though, always on a leap year. The only body they ever found was the last owner, Freemen Daggett."

"These look legit," Ed commented. "They are legit. And we ain't got much time here, buddy. Starting at midnight your friends are doing to die," Sam warned.

On cue the upstairs exploded with noise. Feet pounded on the floorboards and down the stairs straight for them. "Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Guys! Guys! Oh, my God, we got one. Corbett, we saw it!" One of the new guys, who Sam and Dean recognized as Ed's partner, Harry, from Texas, cheered.

"Get out of here!" Ed yelled jealous and excited.

"It was a full apparition. It was like a class four, a spectral illumination."

"It was absolutely amazing," the girl gushed. "It…"

The trio finally noticed their audience was larger than when they went upstairs. Sam, Dean, and Saphira just stared at them in bewilderment. Sam and Dean had never seen anyone that amped after seeing a ghost. While Saphira hadn't been serious about her earlier Nerds thing, then Lewis, Gilbert and Wormizer found Booger and Lamar.

"Hey, aren't those the assholes from Texas," Harry asked Ed. "Yes," he answered begrudgingly.

"All right, let's have this reunion across the street, guys," Dean ordered, trying to usher them out the door.

"Crap, what are you doing here?" Harry groaned, and then straightened up at the sight of Saphira. "H-hello," he greeted with a goofball grin.

Saphira let out a wary sigh. Why can't that look ever come from someone who isn't creepy? she bemoaned to herself.

"Come on, come on. We'll get you ice cream- our treat. What do you say? Let's go." Dean's offer was lost in the group's euphoria.

"Look at this. Look, look. Ed. Ed," the girl said getting Ed's attention on one of their laptops. "Okay, honest-to-God proof. All right?" She clicked play and all of them watched, even Sam, Dean and Saphira, as a guy appear only to be blown away and vanish just as fast.

"Are you kidding me?" Ed asked amazed. "Yeah. No, not kidding," Harry assured. "We got a ghost!"

"What kind of reading did you get?" Ed quizzed. "Uh, it was a 10.9."

"10.9?"

"Yeah, it was 10.9, it was almost 11. It came out and I was like 'what's going on?'" he directed even though they had just seen him on the computer. "And I was like- wait, watch this. Oh! He got blasted. It was crazy."

They were so wrapped up in the computer they didn't notice Sam, Dean, and Saphira walk off, all except Spruce.

"Think we were off on this? That was just a death echo," Sam considered. "Yeah, but what's it doing here? Did anybody get shot here?" Dean asked.

"No, not that I could find," he denied. "What's a death echo?" Spruce inquired.

"Look, we got a problem. That ghost ain't it," Sam claimed.

"What's a death echo?" Spruce repeated, now sounding like he was talking to a slow person. All right punks wanted to know ghosts, time to get schooled by the experts.

"Echoes are trapped in a loop, okay? They keep replaying how they died over and over and over again, usually in the place they were ganked. They are about as dangerous as a scary movie," Dean explained.

"So maybe the echo's not dangerous but something else is?" Sam theorized. Either way they had a job to do and they needed to get the others out before something big and bad happened.

"You're right. All right, we need to get out of here, guys. Come on. Let's go. Let's go." Dean barked.

"Let's go, guys," Sam ordered. "Guys, time's running out."

"But what about our equipment," the girl- Meredith, Marge, Maggie? protested.

They were being shoved to the door now, the only ones really fighting against the eviction was Harry and Ed. "We got the material. We got all kinds of stuff. We'll make you recurring guest stars," Harry pleaded.

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" Ed screamed bringing them to a halt. "Where's Corbett?"

S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N*

After seeing the footage of the ghost, Corbett felt the need to redeem himself. So far since he joined, he fetched drinks and snacks and dissolved into a weak, useless lump. He had blown it like a wimp. But if he caught a ghost on tape for Ed…

So he had crept back upstairs. "I wish to communicate with the restless spirits here," he addressed the room.

The camera burst into static and then his light went out. Crap.

"Oh. Lights out. I think I got night vision here," he mumbled to himself. Fumbling with the camera looking for the switch. "That's better," he murmured once he got it, happy to keep on, unaware that someone had answered his call.

S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N*

Downstairs, Ed was trying to shove the brick wall that was Dean Winchester out of his way to go and look for his friend. Dean pushed him back to the door like he batted away a fly.

"Come on, no man left behind," he protested.

"Listen Ed, this isn't a ride at Disneyland. This is serious. You don't film ghosts, you salt and burn them so they can move on and quit being a problem to the living," Dean explained.

Spruce caught a crooked grin spread on Saphira's face. Quietly to avoid getting Dean's attention, she spoke in a raspy voice, "Welcome foolish mortals to the Haunted Mansion. There are several prominent ghosts who have retired here from creepy crypts from all over the world. Actually we have 999 happy haunts here. But there's room for a thousand. Any volunteers?"

The creepy grin that had been on her lips since Dean's mention of Disneyland fell right off as Corbett's terrified screams ripped through the house.

"That was Corbett," Ed exclaimed. "Come in, Corbett."

"Corbett!" the group called up all tracking up the stairs to look for their friend.

"Guys! We'll get him. Go back!" Dean shouted at them.

"Guys! Shit!" Sam cursed. "What now?"

"We grab them and throw them out the window if we have to. Now move it!" Saphira ordered taking the stairs three at a time.

"Where are you dude?!" Ed yelled frantic. "Tell us where you are, Corbett," Maggie pleaded.

"Let me go! Aah! Guys!" Corbett screamed. Please let someone find him.

"Corbett, come back. Corbett," Ed said into the walkie. Another scream sounded through the house, it was like the scream was everywhere in the house, but nowhere could they find Corbett.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Come on," Dean barked as he stomped into the room. The scream faded out and then all was quiet.

"Hey Corbett," Sam began as he jogged in. "He's not here. Let's go. Let's go"

"No. No. No. That was Corbett. Didn't you hear that?" Harry questioned.

"Sam, get them out of here," Dean ordered. "Let's go. Come on."

The three hunters grabbing their favorite nerd and began moving them back to the front door the rest following.

"There we go. Keep it moving." Sam urged. "Corbett," Ed called trying to break past the wall of Dean, Harry tried to use his friend as a distraction to get through.

"Hey. Watch him." Dean warned. Then thumped him on the head with his flashlight. Rounding the corner to the stairs. "Go. Go. Move. Move," he encouraged as they were coming down home stretch. "Turn it off." The cameras were getting on his last nerve. Finally, he just reached out and turned the damn thing off himself.

"Dean, Sam," Saphira called from the back. "Not now," Dean denied.

"Guys listen, we can't-" she tried again. "Look, we'll look for their friend when their gone," Dean informed her.

"Great. That's not what I-"

"Later," he insisted, reaching the door. Grasping the knob, no need to turn it the whole door looked like it would fall off at the next breeze. Only when he pulled, the door didn't move, not an inch. "What the hell?" he wondered pulling harder now.

"As I was trying to tell you, Happy Leap Day everyone," Saphira said with mock cheer.

Looking at his watch, he saw it was midnight. The start of the ghosts hunting period and they were all stuck inside with it. Fuck.

"What's going on?" Maggie asked.

"Everyone get in there and stay put. Don't move."

Despite having spent the last couple of minute fighting against him now he really sounded like if they didn't hop to it he would be using his gun. So they did as they were told.

"Oh God, what's happening? Oh God, he's gone. He just like disappeared," Ed fritted anxious. As leader he was responsible for everyone on his time. First mission out he had lost someone within the first three hours. And the more worrying, if the ghost was willing to take people that were in his house what else might he do and to who else?

"Okay's let's just go through all the angles. Let's go through all the cameras we have," Harry directed trying to piece the how, the who and maybe what had happened to Corbett.

Spruce's attention was drawn to the front door where Sam and Dean were still trying to muscle their way out. Saphira had sat herself down on the stairs, watching.

Sam stepped away from the door, chest heaving with exertion and frustration. "Well, it's 12:04, Dean. You good? You happy?" he demanded.

"Yeah, I am happy," Dean shot back equally as feed up with how south this hunt had gone.

"'Let's go hunt the Morton House,' you said, 'It's our Grand Canyon.'" Sam seethed.

"Sam, I don't want to hear this," Dean retorted.

"You got two months left, Dean. Instead, we are gonna die tonight," he stressed, while he picked up a nearby chair and smashed it against the door. Saphira and Dean ducked away from the cloud of splinters that erupted.

"Whoa!" came the shout from the next room. "What the hell is going on guys?" Ed demanded.

"Let's not crowd the pissed off guy throwing chairs, shall we?" Saphira interjected as they all piled back into the front hall. The fact that Sam was still panting with anger, showed it wouldn't take much more to the make the curious nerds join the pile of splinters and sawdust on the floor.

"I'll tell you what's going on. Every door, every window, I'm guessing every exit out of this house- they're all sealed," Sam spat.

"But w-why are they all sealed?' Maggie asked.

"It's a supernatural lockdown, okay?" Dean chimed in. "Whatever took Corbett doesn't want us to leave and it's no death echo. This is a bad mother, and it wants us scared."

"Or it just wants us," Maggie pondered aloud.

"'Consider this dismaying observation," Saphira recited from her perch on the stairs, "This chamber has no windows and no doors. Which offers you the chilling challenge: to find a way out. Of course there's always my way." She drew a finger across her throat the age old mine for killing/murder.

As soon as her finger left her throat the EMF shrieked to life.

"Uh, guys, the camera's fritzing again," Spruce told them.

Fear choked the room, last time someone had been taken. Harry shuffled closer to Maggie at the same time she did to him. When they were close enough their hands found each other and held tight.

"Whoa. Whoa. Guys, the EMF's starting to spike. This is a big one," Ed announced.

"Everybody, stay close. There's something coming," Sam cautioned as he, Dean and Saphira closed in tight with the rest.

All eyes darted around trying to spot the source but nothing was there…yet.

For a second nothing was different then there was a big man in the center of the room. "Whoa!" everyone gasped in shock and surprise.

"Guys, is this the same echo you guys saw earlier?" Dean questioned, shaking off the shock and getting back to the hunt.

"No, it's a different guy," Spruce asserted as said guy stumbled around the room.

"Multiple echoes? What the hell's going on?" Dean questioned. "Beats me," Sam shrugged.

"Okay. Alright. Alright," Dean muttered to himself, trying to figure out what the next move should be. He had one idea, it was a long shot, but no one else had anything better.

"Uh, hey, buddy!" he shouted at the echo, walking closer to get in its face. "Hey. Hey. Wake up! Wake up! You're dead! Hello?!"

"What's he doing? What's he doing?" Harry repeated when no one answered.

"It's rare, but sometimes you can shock an echo out of its loop if you can talk to the part of the ghost that's still human. But usually you have to have some kind of connection to the deceased," Sam explained.

"Come on. Wake up! Be dead, huh!" Dean continued. The echo turned but not because of the screaming going on right beside him but from something else, something that was around when he died. There was the faint sound of a long honk.

"Anyone else hear that?" Saphira asked. "What's that sound?" Ed wondered for himself. "You guys hear that?"

"What is that?" Spruce asked. It was familiar to them all but none could quite figure out why.

Dean hadn't giving up the task of getting through to the echo, not for lack of trying. "Snap out of it, buddy! Come on what are you waiting for?!"

A beam of light shown on the echo, who looked at it as confused by it as the room was with light was getting brighter; the honk was being drawn out and sounded closer. Now the echo looked scared then the echo shot bodily backwards like from out of a canon and disappeared.

Everyone lurched back at the sudden act.

"Oh!" Spruce exclaimed.

"Holy shit," Saphira declared.

"Where did it go?" Harry asked shakily.

Dean turned to Sam and Saphira, a questioning look on his face. They were equally unsure about what was going on in the house. None of the research said anything like this; they were as unprepared as the Ghostfacers.

Sam felt unease and dread bubble in his gut. If he had looked harder maybe he'd know what the hell was happening. Just like with Dean's deal, now he was going to get his brother killed by a ghost instead of a hellhound.

Saphira was much the same, up till now she treated the place like a joke. No matter what she did or how she acted something always went wrong. She can't lose it all again. But now they had lost a person and echoes were around every corner. They couldn't have died there so who or rather what had brought them here?

S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N*

"Dude, there's no records of any of this here. No one got shot here. Obviously, no one got run over by a freaking train," Dean said tromping down one of the houses hallways. Something had to make sense in this crazy ass house. No ghost had made an appearance, the house was teeming with echoes, and there was a pushy camera crew that stuck to them like freaking duct tape.

"Stay close," Sam cautioned to the group.

"Did the echoes take Corbett?" Maggie asked Dean.

"Yes." It was a reflexive response; it was completely unheard of for an echo to cause damage of the physical kind at least. The mental to those that watched a ghost croak from a violent and usually bloody death was another thing.

"No," he corrected. He was tired of not having the answer to the questions in front of him. And not just with the house. "I don't know. We don't know what's doing what here; that's what we're trying to figure out, okay?"

"All right stay close," Sam repeated seeing the same girl lad behind. She looked really scared behind her camera, realization that they were in over their head setting in. Feeling the need to comfort, Sam tried to assure her. "Okay, look, um, death echoes are ghosts, okay? Now, ghosts- they usually haunt place where they lived or where they died."

"Except these mooks didn't live or die here," Dean finished. "Right."

"So, what are they doing here?" Maggie asked.

"Hey, give the lady a cigar," Dean joked, turning to give her a grin, only be face to camera again. This had gotten old within the first thirty seconds, now it was beyond annoying.

"All right, seriously, does looking at this nightmare through that camera make you feel better or something? I mean…"

"Um…I, uh…Well, yeah. Uh, yeah. I think so. Mm-hm," she fumbled for a decent explanation but the best one sounded lame so she settled for just a confirmation. Really the camera acted like a barrier from her to the things in the house, if the ghosts wanted her they had to go through the camera.

"Oh," he stated, than made a face. Whatever, it wasn't his business to take away a girls security blanket.

They piled into a den room which was filled with stuffed animals, the dead kind not the ones given to kids' kind and cabinets cramped full.

Dean started flipping through the yellowed and crackled papers on the desk. Sam found a frame; when he lifted it up to loose glass fell out. Dean came over to see if it was any help.

"Freeman Daggett, house's last owner. Officially commended for twenty years of fine service at the Gamble General Hospital," he read.

"He's a doctor?" Dean asked. "Janitor," Sam corrected.

"This looks like his den," Dean noted looking around the room again. "When did you say he died? '64?"

"Yeah," he agreed, "heart attack."

"What are these, c-rations?" Maggie asked eyeing the stuff piled in and around one of the cabinets.

"Yeah, army-issued, three squares- like a lifetime supply," Dean said.

"God, is that all he ate?" Maggie shivered in disgust. "One-stop shopping."

"Hello, locked," Dean announced at a safe he'd found. "Saph, think you can work some magic," he joked, which earned him an eye roll.

"Come on, guys. This is ridiculous. How the hell is this supposed to find Corbett? Huh? We should be digging up the friggin' floorboards right now," Ed burst out. Everyone continued to ignore him though.

"Huh? 'Survival Under Atomic Attack'," Sam read off a dusty pamphlet. "An optimist."

"Got it," Saphira said opening the safe and tossing away the lock.

Dean peered in and hefted a metal box out then turned and saw Ed right behind him waving a device in his face. A face that after seeing him literally read between 'Really? and 'Get-that-thing-out-of-my-face-before-I-break-your-face'.

This time Ed got the message and backed away. Plopping the box on the desk, flipping the lid open revealed a mess of more papers inside.

"Crap. Crap," he dismissed tossing the useless pieces aside then pulled out a book. "Taxidermy. Okay." What the-

"You said Daggett was a hospital janitor?" he asked Sam. "Yeah."

"Ew. We got three toe tags here. One, death by gunshot, train accident, and suicide."

Beside him Sam let out his own ew of revulsion. "Oh my God, this isn't Haunted Mansion, we're in fucking Haunting in Connecticut," Saphira groaned.

"Umm, we're in Wisconsin," Ed ventured. Turning a full voltage glare she snapped, "No shit. And don't go through with your floorboard idea. Trust me it might not be pretty."

"What?"

"Well that explains why all the death echoes are here," Sam clarified. Only no one else got it. "They're here because their bodies are here," he added. "Somewhere in the house." Still nothing.

"Daggett brought the remains home from the morgue…to play," Dean informed them bluntly.

"Ewww!" Ed and Harry harmonized trying to shake off the metal gore. "That's nasty, dude," Spruce muttered.

"Right," Sam agreed. "Wait a minute," Dean murmured there was one voice that didn't make their disgust known.

S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N*

"Corbett," Maggie called over her thumping heart. The air seemed thinner in the room making her pant that was why, not because she was scared.

Something moved out of the corner of her eye making her jump only to come face to face with herself in a cracked mirror. "Okay. Maggie," she quietly reprimanded to herself.

Then the camera went static. Something was coming. Turning around she almost bumped into a stuffed bird. Turning back the way she came she found Dean inches from her.

She shrieked in fright right in his face. "Closer to the herd, okay?" was his reply.

"Maggie? Maggie?!" came Harry's voice.

"She's fine," Dean assured.

"Harry, Harry, I got an 8.6 and climbing fast. Something huge is coming. Look." Ed looked down at the device with rising terror. Harry came over for his own look. "Something big is coming."

The cameras burst in static again, this time it emitted a whining noise. "It's past 11, you guys." Harry cried panic setting in. "What is happening?" Spruce questioned.

"Nobody move!" Dean order was lost in the noise. It was like someone blocked out the moon and stole all means of light out of the room for a second. When they came back on they counted heads.

"Sam?" Saphira called to him…or rather at the space he had just been before the lights went out.

Dean hearing her concern looked around for his brother and didn't find him anywhere. "Sam?"

Saphira looked around, for the first time tonight looking scared. "Sam?" Dean called out again.

"Where'd he go?" Spruce asked no noticing the room's lack of tall guy. "Oh no," Maggie whispered. They lost someone else.

Dean scooped up a fallen flashlight, one that had been in his brothers hands before the spike. Now he had the flashlight and no brother.

"SAM!"

S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N*

The chaos and panic began anew with Sam's disappearance. The Ghostfacers hoped that with the surge the whatever that had taken Corbett would leave a trail so they could find their friend. Dean was rushing around the house like a man possessed, one single purpose in his mind: find his damn brother.

"SAMMY!" Dean's voice echoed throughout the house making the very dust move.

"Sam!" Ed called. "Yo, talk to us," Spruce yelled.

"Sammy?!" "Corbett!" "Corbett!" "Sam!"

Maggie, Harry and Spruce had spilt off to cover more ground now they were back in the first sighting room. The reality was hitting the lungs, blocking air. Maggie's breaths were shorter than before and now she was shaking. "God, I am so scared," she admitted.

Harry rubbed his head thinking the mission was a mess, they had found a ghost but at great cost and now they didn't know if they'd ever find their friends. "I'm so scared," Maggie whimpered. "It's going to be okay," he assured. "It's going to be okay, Maggie."

Harry will swear to everything in the universe that when he stepped closer to her it was only to hug her, offer some grounding. But as he got into her space she moved with him and they found their lips brushing against each other's. Then both decided to lean in further, kissing back.

Maggie wrapped an arm around Harry's neck making sure he didn't go anywhere, while he cradled the small of her back with one hand and caressed her hair with the other. Their nerves were set alive with new energy, good energy, amazing. Damn, who'd thought with all the talking he did would give him mind numbing tongue moves.

Out in the hall, Ed noticed he was the only one still searching for their friend and doubled back.

Saphira entered the room glaring at her cell. She had tried calling Sam on the longshot he'd actually answer but just got his voicemail. She rang again hoping to hear it then remembered he and Dean silenced their phones to not alert others where they were. That, now, was the stupidest thing they had ever done, she decided.

A small moan caught her attention. She looked up and- _hello_ , make out. Wow, guess they weren't that worried about their friend.

"Bow-chika bow-wow," Spruce sang gleefully. "Whoa." Ed walked in and the movement had the two breaking apart like they had been shocked.

"Ah, shit," Saphira murmured quietly. On the one hand, they needed to find Sam and Corbett; on the other hand, nerd fight.

The two lovebirds stood with their backs against the walls, hand in the cookie jar, deer in the headlights, stunned.

"My best friend and my best sister." Ed practically vibrated with fury.

"Ed," Harry ventured trying to cut off his friend's anger before it was released. "Harry," he responded.

"Ed." "Harry."

"Ed. Listen, Ed," he gulped. "Are you banging my sister?" he demanded. Harry huffed at the accusation. "No."

Maggie looked offended by his rejected. True they had only just kissed but he didn't have to make it sound like that. Ed took his sister's offence differently. That they were banging and Harry had lied to him.

"Hold my glasses," he told Spruce passing his glasses off. "You got it," Spruce agreed.

"Yeah, you gotta take care to that," Saphira encouraged. Might as well, there was no stopping a guy when his best friend puts the moves on his sister.

"Ed. Ed. Ed! Ed! ED!" Ed charged like bull, wrapping his arms around his head and tried to smother him in his jacket, while Harry tried to slap him off.

"Ed, get off. You guys stop," Maggie shouted.

What was becoming a familiar tread of footstep sounded behind Saphira, Dean had found them.

"You guys are in trouble," Spruce teased seeing Dean stomp his was up to them.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" he shouted shouldering the two apart with ease. "What the fuck are you doing?! Cut it out. We're down by two people," he reprimanded then whirled on Saphira. "And what the hell are you doing?"

Nothing could be said on her behalf so she merely shrugged, trying to not set him off. He was on edge about his brother and only having two months left, the fuse was short.

Forget it, he needed to find his brother. "Sam! Sammy!" he stomped off Saphira following after him.

"Sorry," Harry apologized.

"I'm sorry," Ed responded. Which was a sorry but his tone made it sound like, 'Fuck you, sister-kisser.'

"You got my glasses," he asked Spruce who readily handed them off. "Did he knock my- my tooth there?"

"Uh, no," Spruce replied. "I won that right?"

"Yep, you're good."

"Thanks Spruce," Harry snipped then marched off. "Yeah, it's my fault." He wasn't the one that made out with the boss man's sister while two people were missing. "Great that's nice. Thanks," Maggie bitched.

Jerks.

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"Sammy! Sam! Sam! Damnit!"

Hopelessness, frustration and uselessness whirled in him like a tornado; nothing was going his way, they hadn't been for a year, hell maybe since he was four. He didn't want these feelings, these emotions, he didn't want to die. His fist connected with a wall, pain flared up his arm and meddled with his feelings but didn't make them stop.

"Dean, calm down," Saphira urged behind him.

"I won't," he snapped. "Sam's gone, I can't find him and you're no help." Okay that hurt but she wasn't going to argue, he was right she hadn't been.

"Dean, I'm sorry tonight sucks and that Sam's missing. But you have got to keep your head. We have got to think," she compelled.

Keeping his head down, sucking in big breaths through his mouth and exhaling slowly back out he calmed down enough to turn and face her.

"The echoes are nothing, right? They're harmless and Daggett brought them here, more than likely he kept them in the same place. We figure out where their bodies are, we'll find Sam. We do it fast enough we can find him alive, okay?" she concluded.

"Okay," he agreed. Daggett better be ready to eat salt and burn when Dean got ahold of him.

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Waking up with splitting pain stabbing into his head was something Sam had gotten use to in the last couple of years. Well, not use to so much as he just came to expect it. His precog, special child days usually came hand and hand with the angry throb of a white hot migraine that lasted from hours to at least three days. Plus, it sucked that most supernatural creatures had the affinity for strangling him which always left him with a harsh headache.

Tonight's pain was brought on by a cement block posing as a ghosts hand that clocked him in the face as he was dragging him down wherever he was. Coming too was no fun; his neck was creaked at an awful angle, already sore.

Light seared his retinas even though he hadn't even opened them yet. The shrieking sounds of a woman singing drove iron rods into his brain. Prying his eyes open and forcing them to focus, he could barely see much given the lack of light. Then the smell hit him and he realized his headache might not be the reason he wanted to hurl so bad.

The whole place rank of rancid decay, filth and death. He wished the ghost had broken his nose or at the very least made it bleed, he'd prefer the smell of iron then this.

Wading through the fog of pain and odor he got his first look at the room. Forms sat at the table, covered in dusty and moldy birthday party favors in front of him stiff, didn't take much to figure out they were the people that want missing every leap year.

Looking at the only source of light in the room he found the other prisoner; Corbett. Daggett had clocked him good in the eye, banged him up on the drag down, he sat slumped in his seat.

For a minute he wondered if he was already dead…then he twitched. "Corbett. Corbett, hey. Wake up, man," he called.

Groaning, he began to move more. "Sam?" his name barely stirred the air. His eyes blinked owlishly.

"Corbett, hey, you got to keep listening to my voice, okay? I'm right here. Stay awake." His voice got louder the more it looked like Corbett was going to fall back under.

"Don't listen to him," came a deep voice at the side of the table. You could barely make out the different shade of black he was. Then he got clearer as Corbett slowly turned his head light on him revealing a behemoth of a man. "It stops hurting. So don't worry," he crowed, picking up a long screwdriver. Despite his dazed and slow state at the sight of the screwdriver Corbett knew the intent and began whimpering weakly struggling against his bonds.

Sam did the same more fiercely but got the same result. He was forced to watch as the sick bastard moved behind Corbett. "Corbett, stay with me. Stay with me, you got it?" he pleaded. "I'm right here. Hey, stay with me."

Poor guy was shaking with fear. This whole thing was like something straight from a nightmare; scary monster after you, being unable to move an inch no matter how close…closer… _closer_ the monster comes.

Only thing he could offer was that whatever happened next he wasn't alone and silently hope he didn't end up an echo trapped in the house. "Don't," Sam order. The ghost sneered at his attempt then he moved closer to Corbett. "Don't. No!" The screwdriver came right through his Adam's apple. Wet, rasping gasps gurgled in the room as blood washed down his throat and into his lungs...then it was quiet.

"Corbett." Daggett pulled the screwdriver out and walked away like he had swatted a fly. Corbett's head flopped boneless to the side, his eyes open and beginning to glaze over with death.

When would he stop having to watch people die in front of him? There was too much death. He had lost everyone or ran away from them so they could live. He watched a hundred days of Dean dying and the day was coming closer where he'd have to watch it again.

Course if they didn't find him soon he wouldn't have to.

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In the den, Saphira and Dean were flipping through the swamp of papers, seriously for all his cabinets Daggett was a messy person.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Okay, so Daggett was a cold war nut, okay? He was- he was an amateur taxidermist. He liked to slow dance with cadavers and all he ate where c-ration, so what the hell are we looking for?!" he fumed. Floundering to make sense of a dead guys dust and yellowed papers meanwhile this sorry sonofabitch had his brother and he couldn't find him.

"A horrible life," Maggie offered.

"Yeah, a lonely life…a cold war life." The pieces were starting to fall together, on the desk was the pamphlet Sam noticed earlier atomic attack. That's it.

"He was scared." His revelation came out almost hushed. "He was scared. He was scared!" He bolted out of the room Saphira hot at his heels, the others scrambling to keep up.

"Scared of what? What? Dean, where are you going?" Harry called after him.

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He was walking up to Sam, causally like this dank den of death was a sunny park. "Get away from me," Sam warned, pulling back as far as his bounds let him.

"This won't hurt," he assured. Like hell it won't! "It's okay. It's okay. Relax. Relax," he murmured brushing against Sam and put on one of those stupid party hats. Sam would almost rather he'd been stabbed in the throat. Least then he wouldn't have known humiliation before he died.

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"Where are you two going?" Maggie asked as the filed down the stairs.

"Guys like Daggett back then, the ones that were really scared of the Russkies- they built bomb shelters. I'm guessing he's got one. I'll bet you it's in the basement," he explained. The door under the stairs opened with a creek revealing a staircase that went down. Dean walked right in Saphira following without hesitation with Spruce close behind.

But as the others came close the door swung back shut with a slam. "Whoa," the three exclaimed in surprise. On the stairs the other trio whipped around.

"That is so not funny," Ed stressed from the other side. "Uh, who closed the door?" Spruce asked.

"It did," Dean responded. "It wants us separated. Ed, listen to me. There's some salt in my duffle. Make a circle and get inside," he directed.

"Inside his-?" Ed looked to Harry confused. "That's stupid," he muttered. "Inside your duffle bag?" Ed questioned.

Saphira rolled her eyes so hard they actually hurt. "In the salt, you idiots," Dean roared.

"Oh, okay." That made much more sense.

They listened as the others hustled off to lay the circle. Dean, at this point didn't even care about the job anymore, just wanted his brother back at their motel room with a cold six pack and no nerds with cameras.

"We find Daggett, I'm killing him again for locking us in with these geniuses," Saphira commented. "And I won't stop ya, just wanna to find Sam." Dean led them down into the basement.

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"Harry, hurry up," Ed compelled. "Get in the circle. Come on. Quick." Finally, he finished the circle and jumped in and huddled close to his friends.

"Guys, I don't want to die, okay, and I don't want you to die," Harry told them.

"Harry, listen- listen to me okay? Listen, if we don't die," Ed said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder drawing him closer, "it's totally okay if you, uh, do my sister."

"Ow!" he cried as Maggie socked him in the arm. "Nice," she spat. She couldn't believe Ed, then the camera fritzed and her anger drained out of her and was replaced with fear.

"Guys, hey guys. It's coming again," she warned. The lights started blinking out.

"Okay. Oh, God. Guys, get in close," Ed said drawing them close hoping the salt held or did whatever it was supposed to do.

"Oh my God," Harry said. Then it settled. Nothing seemed to have happened, but the lights and the camera meant something always happened. Ed looked over shoulder and ice speared through his body, his heart stopped then began to stampede. "Oh God," he whispered horrified.

Corbett stood in the room with them, blood dripping down his shirt from a gaping hole in his throat, his whole body shaking in terror, choking on his own blood.

"Oh. Oh, C-Corbett." They did this. They brought him here. They brought him to his death.

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"Hey, can I ask you something?" Spruce asked. "What?" Dean responded not really listening to the guy.

"Earlier, you, her and Sam. He said you had two months to live." Saphira paused at the topic then kept on; it was Dean's issue to talk about.

"It's complicated," was his reply. She huffed, understatement of the century. "A while ago, Sam," Dean paused and saw what he was about to do and it was just too damn stupid. He laughed at his own idiocy. "No. No. No. I'm not gonna whine about my bullshit problems to some bullshit reality show. I'm gonna to do my fucking job," he asserted.

"Put the guy in front of a camera he turns into Tourette's Guy. Great, now I want to see you in a Tony the Tiger t-shirt," Saphira teased.

"Is it cancer?" Spruce persisted.

"Shut up!" Dean barked. "You hear that?" his head cocked to the side.

"It's My Party, Lesley Gore," Saphira noted. "It's coming from behind the wall."

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"I've been waiting for some more friends. I get lonely. But you're coming to my party, aren't you?" Daggett loomed closer as Sam struggled fiercely against his bonds.

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The only thing big enough to hide a door behind was this huge metal cabinet, Dean grabbed onto one side and Saphira grabbed on too. "I got it," he groused.

"You can assert the size of your boxer hugger when you brother isn't stuck with ghost," she snapped and pulled. Together the cabinet came away from the wall revealing a door.

"Wow. You're strong," Spruce commented. Dean flipped him off.

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"You'll stay a good long time," Daggett grinned advancing toward Sam and this time it wasn't to put a hat on him.

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Dean struggled with the bolt to the door. Finally the layers of rust gave way and they were in.

"Sam!" he called. Then the aroma smacked them in the face. The smell would have to take a number as worry flooded Dean's senses when he spotted the freaking mountain of a man hovering by his baby brother. A mountain that was now coming at them. Pulling his gun out of his jacket pocket, he cocked and fired. The ghost dissipated for the moment.

Dean rushed to Sam to untie the ropes.

"Oh, my God," Spruce uttered. The light from his camera illuminated the whole demented party with its decrepit old and shriveled guests. Saphira helped Sam up, taking stock on his eye.

"Oh, no, Corbett," Spruce breathed. The team was going to lose it with this.

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Upstairs in the living room Ed was doing just that. Harry and Maggie were wallowing in guilt and sorrow. Ed rocked frantically back and forth, his brain trying to process what it had just seen but not wanting to believe it.

"Oh God, what have we done?" he lamented. The guilt was so strong it was almost a taste in the back of his throat.

"Ed. Ed," Harry tried to get his attention, hoping to comfort his friend. "Yeah," was the shaky reply.

"Corbett's a- he's a death echo. He's, uh, reliving his own murder." No, wait, he didn't want to say that. But before he could take it back Maggie jumped in. "Over and over, forever."

The look on Ed's face said they were _not_ helping.

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"Thought we agreed that I'd get Daggett and you'd get Sam," Saphira said idly.

"Thought you didn't like guns," Dean fired back.

"Oh, I like them tonight," she purred. "Damn, he got you good," she said dabbing the blood of Sam's face.

"Saph, I'm fine," he assured, batting her away gently. "Yeah all right," she said not believing him.

"No really, I'm fine," he insisted. She let out a huff through her nose and leveled a look at him. "Look, Sam. I've been worried about you for the better part of three hours. Now I got to mother hen the shit out of something or I'm gonna tear my way through this fucking house of horrors."

"That's not much incentive to stop you," Dean joked. "Shut up, Dean."

"What's this Daggett guy's problem anyway?" Spruce demanded. "Loneliness," Sam huffed.

"What, he's never heard of a Real doll?" Dean asked. "Apparently our host is one of the few who prefer the real thing over silicon," Saphira mocked.

"No, no, no, Daggett was the Norman Bates, stuff your mother kind of lonely," Sam explained. "That's why he lifted the bodies from the morgue, threw himself a birthday party, except they were the only ones who would come. Anyway, so at midnight he sealed them in the bomb shelter and went upstairs to o.d.'d on horse tranqs," he finished. Well, that was insightful.

"How do you know this?" Dean asked. "Because he told me," he answered dryly.

"Ah yes, the usual party conversions. The how I died is always rousing," Saphira drawled. "Yeah. Okay, so now that he's dead, what? Same song different verse, trying to get people to come to his party?" Dean asked.

"Pretty much, yeah," Sam confirmed. "Stay forever."

Never been one to pass on a party but this one had a little too much mold and dead people for Dean, and that depressed nutcase would be coming back any time.

"Are those real bullets?" Spruce asked as Dean replaced the used shells. "It's rock salt." He left the dummy part off.

Brother back, gun locked and loaded. Gave him a ghost and this night is over.

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Harry sat rocking back and forth singing their theme song quietly to himself. None of them dared move after Corbett appeared. If they left they might join him. All they could do was hope the others got to Sam and were giving that dead bastard what-for.

The camera went static and the lights began to flicker. Ed wasn't ready for this, he wasn't ready to see Corbett die anymore then Corbett wanted to die. But he came again, and began his death.

"Oh, Corbett." Maggie was about to break down in tears for their friend. Ed turned his face away disgusted at some ghost douchebag was making their friend stay like this, not letting him move on to peace. Then he remembered what Sam said about echoes. Dean didn't do it but maybe Ed could, he knew Corbett after all. Maybe he could help him move on.

"Wait, guys, it's- it's Corbett. He's- he's trapped. He's in a lot of pain, you know? We got to try and…we got to try and pull him out of his loop. We have to." Determined, Ed got up and faced his friend. They had to help him, they had brought him here. No way were they going to leave him here to die like this leap year after leap year. They owed him more than that.

"Ed," Harry cautioned as he stepped at the edge of salt. Yeah, they needed to help their friend but they could still do that from inside the circle, right?

"Corbett. Corbett," he called. No response, he moved to step out of the circle. "Don't cross the line of salt," Harry warned.

"I got to do it, Harry," he said solemnly. Then stepped out.

"Corbett, listen to me. Okay, I'm not gonna hurt you. Listen. Listen. Oh God." He was so close now. He could see the blood pouring out of the hole in his throat, spreading over his camouflage shirt. He looked so real, so still alive, still could be saved. Corbett's whole form flickered like the picture going out on an old TV something an alive person didn't do. He really was gone.

"Oh my God!" Ed shouted jumping back. "Get back here. Get back," Harry encouraged. The hopelessness of the situation hit him as he got back in the circle.

"I can't, okay? He's not hearing me, okay? He won't stop dying." What the hell were they supposed to do?

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Watching Dean try and break a door down was getting dull, he had been at it for three minutes, and Spruce was getting it all on his camera. "Seriously? You're still shooting?" Sam asked. "It makes him feel better. Don't ask," Dean panted on a breather before returning to beating on the door.

"Want me to take a crack at it?" Saphira asked. "No, I got it." The blows got harder. "If you had it, we'd be out by now," she muttered.

The camera went static again. "Ah, hell, guys. Get into in your ghost-role thing. Something's coming." Spruce turned to keep an eye out only to find Daggett's ghost right behind him. "Oh my-"

Daggett grabbed him by the shirt and through him clear cross the basement. He leaded hard against the floor. Daggett advanced after him. Sam charged down the stairs after him and shot him.

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Ed was scrambling for a way to help what was left of his friend. Beside him Harry was going over what Sam had said about echoes needing a personal connection. They all had one with Corbett, he was their friend too. But he had more a connection with Ed; he just needed the right connection. The connection he never got in life. Now Ed just needed to convince him.

"I- I know how we can get through to him," Harry said. "How?" Ed asked.

"Ed, he had feelings for you," he confessed. "Huh?" Ed replied dumbly.

"He wanted you."

"Wa-wanted me to what?" Seriously?

"You know." He grunted and thrust his hips out. Ed's blank look of shock meant he got it. "And you know what you've got to do. You can do it Ed." Ed shook his head. "You've always been the brave one." He still shook his head. No way was he doing this. "Yes, you can. You make us brave- Maggie, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah you do. You totally do."

"Ed. You got to go be gay for that poor dead intern. You got to send him into the light."

Slowly, Ed turned back to Corbett and approached him again. "Corbett."

Maggie made to follow, this was gonna be hard on her brother, he'd need the support. Harry held her arm. "Maggie, no. No."

"No, it's okay," she assured and crossed over the line.

"Corbett, look. Hey, it's just Ed, buddy. It's just me." A lump lodged itself in his throat making the words hard to push out. "Hey, hey, Corbett, listen to- listen to me. I'm- we-" He couldn't do this. It was too much. Corbett was dead, he was no more. He thought of the time they spent together in a new light. He had always been so kind and enamored and attentive. He had come onto the team for him and Ed had never given him a second look or thought. He had never rebuffed or encouraged his affection. He treated him like furniture.

Now he had to lie to him, treat him horribly even in death. But maybe it wasn't such a lie. He did love Corbett like he loved all of those on his team. The ones that made him believe that together they could be the end all of ghost hunting.

Corbett was dead. Dead and gone. There were no more memories to be made, no more dreams that would come true, no more goals that would be finished. All there was, was the hope that this one would count, would be that one last good memory.

"Okay. You meant-" tears were welling up already "Corbett, you meant a lot to the team. You meant- you meant a lot to me. You know, never back down…Never say a bad word, okay? I remember that, Corbett. I- I remember that. I remember because I love you, Corbett. I really, truly love you."

The glazed eyes began to focus, staring back at Ed as he brushed the tears away. "Do you remember that? Do you?"

"Hey. Ed?"

"Yeah," his voice cracked. It worked! "Yeah, Corbett it's-" It was Corbett, tender and loving and sweet as he was in life. "Corbett. Yeah, that's me. It's me. Look at me. You got to help us man. You have to help us, Corbett. Please. Please. Please help us right now."

A determined look fell over his face and then he was gone. Ed let out a shaky breath, his legs felt weak. Maggie enveloped him in a hug. "You did good, bro," she whispered into his shoulder. "Good job, man," Harry congratulated.

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"Take it easy. You all right?" Sam asked as Spruce pushed himself up. The camera fritzed so hard it almost vibrated. "Uh, guys…"

Daggett appeared behind Dean. "Dean!" Saphira screamed. Dean whipped around, just to have Daggett grab hold of him and get flung into a cabinet.

"Hey! Hey! Come here. Shit!" Sam tussled against Daggett only to get shoved into a corner. Daggett hurled Saphira in the same direction causing her to land on Sam and advanced toward Spruce.

He loomed over him, malicious intent clear on his face. "This is bad- very bad."

Camera spazzed in interference. But Daggett was already here, in fact even he looked surprised.

"Corbett?" But how? He just saw Corbett slumped dead in a chair at a corpse slumber party. He didn't get much time to wonder how it was possible because Corbett charged, face like those fierce warriors on the battlefield, at Daggett. The second he latched onto him their forms dissolved in a spiral of storm clouds. A bright light filled every inch in the room. Then they were gone. No cloud spiral, no light, not even them.

It was like the house itself knew the murderer it housed was gone and the tension from keeping the secret was gone.

"You all right, dude?" Spruce asked, turning to Dean as he hefted himself up. "You all right?" Saphira rolled off of Sam then gave him a hand up. They all met in the middle. The night had been absolute craziness but it was finally over.

"Oh my God." Well, they still had the cameras looking at them. Screw it. Dean took it.

"Let's get back to the motel," Saphira suggested, making her way over to the door. "No argument there," Dean agreed. "Lockdown should be over now."

The door opened with ease despite the pounding it took that hadn't moved it an inch.

They found the others in the living room. "All right. Ghost's gone. Let's pack it up," Dean announced.

Ed seemed a little dazed and out of it. "Yeah. You're right…Team let's get the gear." That was oddly complacent. Maybe tonight had a few good points if it keeps the newbie away from this stuff.

"Hey Spruce, can you get out early and grab some exit shots?" Harry asked. "Aye, co-caption," he replied.

The sun was coming up over the trees; it felt weird that they had only spent one night in the house. But they did, half a century of no one ever leaving and they did.

Ed came out first, still kind of out of it but trying to keep it up for the camera. Sam, Dean and Saphira came out next all easing their basement kinks out. Harry and Maggie came out and hugged.

Sam handed Ed their number in case he and his team didn't give up on their hobby and needed some backup or info. They said their goodbyes and Ed tried to give Saphira a hug that she then turned into the awkwardest handshake ever. Dean laughed his way to the car.

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"Leap year, February 29th, the Morton House. A tragic day," Ed lamented back at his house, doing the wrap up. "A day of souls bound in torment, of lives held in cruel balance. But the Ghostfacers, they did the best they could."

"We lost a beloved friend, but we gained new allies," Harry said.

"We know this much: that every day, including today, is a new beginning. We learned more than we can say in the brutal feat of the Morton House.'

"The Ghostfacers were forced to face something far more scary then ghosts. They were forced to face themselves," Harry revealed solemnly. The feelings uncovered in the dusty halls, friendships broken and repaired, death around every corner. They had grown much in that house.

"War changes man," Ed declared. "And Maggie," Harry interjection, thinking of the punch it earn them if they left her out.

Ed tried to not look annoyed at the interruption. "War changes man. And one woman." That had all the Facers covered except for the one they lost, the one who helped them achieve their fame at the cost of his life.

Ed gave a soft scoff and played with his fingers. No words could express a proper send off to Corbett mostly because no one wanted to send him off, they wanted him in the spotlight with them.

"You know, Corbett. We just-" he sighed. "Ah, gosh, we just like to think that you're out there watching over us."

"As far as we're concerned, you're not an intern anymore. You have more than earned full Ghostfacers status. Plus, it would be cool to have a ghost on the team," Harry added.

"Yeah. Heh, heh. And here we were thinking that, you know we were teaching you and all this time you were teaching us, about heart, about dedication, and about how gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day. Thank you, Alan J. Corbett."

"Go well into that starry night, young Turk. Go well," Harry said.

Spruce had come back with a confession type he had done with Corbett hours before the mission just for laughs.

Corbett was lugging their equipment to the van. "Come on Spruce, I gotta get all this stuff packed up!" he laughed. "So, pack and talk!"

"I don't know what to say," he protested. "Say what comes to mind. This is our confessional moments, Corbett, so confess. What did you think was going to happen tonight? What do you think is going to happen on this trip," he prompted.

"I think tonight, I really do, that all our dreams are gonna come true. Does that sound stupid?"

"Kind of does, yeah," Spruce agreed. Corbett just laughed; they froze and faded it out on his happy, charismatic face. They gave him the title car: in memory of Alan J. Corbett, 1985-2008 King of the Impossible.

"Well, it's done," Maggie announced. "So who do we invite to the first private screening of awesomeness?" Harry asked. "Think I know just the doucheB's," Ed smirked.

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They had crashed as soon as they got to the motel. Sam was asleep before his head hit the pillow, after Saphira was satisfied he didn't have a concession, of course.

They were milling around in the afternoon. Saphira had something with metal laid out on the table she was fiddling with. The sound of Sam's phone ringing broke through the calm.

"Hello? Hey, Ed. What do you want? Uh, sure. Yeah, we can be there. Bye."

"What did caption of the nerd squad want?" Dean asked.

"They finished editing their 'mission' and they want us to watch it." Sam responded.

"They're serious about showing that to people?"

"Their friend died last night, Dean. Can't talk them out of it," Saphira said. "Great, the secrets out. Wonder how long it'd take to make a magnet?"

"Take about two minutes if you hand me that Walmart bag," Saphira said. The bag had one of those big battery packs. "Did a little shopping while we were out?" he teased. "Don't act like you don't love it," she grinned.

S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N*

They were hustled into seats in front of a monitor the second they walked in the door. The next hour was filled with watching themselves from last night. Sam really wished they hadn't used the footage with the hat on his head; Dean was going to be laughing his ass off for a while on that one.

"So, guys, what's you think?" Ed asked at the end.

The three shared a smirk, trying to not laugh.

"You know, I kind of think it was half awesome," Dean admitted.

"Half- awesome? That's- that's full-on good, right?" Maggie gushed.

The hunters shared a look.

"Yeah, um, I mean it's bizarre how you all are able to honor Corbett's memory while grossly exploiting the manner of his death. Well done," Sam congratulated as Dean slipped the bag under the table.

"Yeah, it's a real tight rope you guys are walking there," Dean added. "I'm just happy the camera stayed above my neck 96% of the time," Saphira said.

"Yeah, all right guys," Sam sighed as they got up to leave.

"Nah, that's reality, man," Ed called after them back to being the cocky punk he was. "Yeah, Corbett gave his life searching of the truth, and it's our job over here to share it with the world."

"Right. Well, um, our experience, you know what you get when you show the world the truth?" Sam asked. "A straight jacket. Or a punch in the face. Sometimes both," Dean said. "Electro shock or a thorazine dip," Saphira added.

"Right," Sam agreed.

Harry scoffed. "Oh, come on, guys, don't be Facer haters just because we happened to have gotten the footage of the century."

"Oh yeah," Ed gloated.

"You got us there," Dean confessed. "Yeah," Sam said. "Yep," Saphira stated. All three thinking if they had videoed their demon fight in the police station or any demon for that matter and showed them, they'd shit themselves.

"Yeah, well, we'll see you guys around," Dean said. "Peace out," Spruce told them.

The trio filed out the back door, Ed came up behind to close it. As soon as it shut Harry sighed, "Dicks."

"Oh yeah," Ed said. "Totally," Maggie agreed.

"Let's start laying off some DVDs," Spruce said setting up in front of his computer.

"Sounds like a good idea, Spruce," Harry cheered. He was getting really jazzed up. Once this hit the world they'd be made. "You know guys, I think we're gonna need a bigger office here, you know? Because we're going to go national, and then it's going to go international and then-"

He broke off as Ed lifted a bag that didn't belong to them from under the desk. "Hey, Menudo left their dance bag behind," he teased. "What's inside?"

They pulled out a freaky thing all black and covered in wire. "Whoa, what the hell is this?" Harry asked. Not noticing the monitor breaking up.

"Uh…seems to be having some technical difficulty over here," Spruce alerted. All the monitors were freaking out and all their footage was on them.

"Wait a minute. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," Harry pleaded frantically tapping on the keyboard. The screen went blue. "No operating system found?" Harry read the screen almost hoping for it to morph into better news then what it was now showing him. All their work, an actual ghost, a whole night-gone!

S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N* S*P*N*

"We clean?" Sam asked. On cue, "Noo! Are you kidding me?!" exploded from the house.

They broke out in laughter, getting into the car. "Electro magnet wiped out every tap and hard drive they had," Dean explained, giving Saphira a high five.

"The world just isn't ready for the Ghostfacers," Sam said. "It's too bad. I kinda like the show," Dean admitted.

"You liked cussing and flipping off the camera," Saphira joked.

"Yeah, and I can get in traffic for that." He said starting her up and peeling out before they came after them, nothing remaining of leap day but a pair of skid marks on the road.


End file.
